Poem: The Symphony of the Storm
Daylight Downpour, 4:30 p.m.
The afternoon progresses to a grey-clad shroud
With weeping skies and heavy cloud.
A relentless rhythm on the drain,
The steady pulse of daylight rain
Thunderclaps, 7:30 p.m.
As shadows stretch and evening nears,
The sky speaks low of hidden fears.
A sudden crack, a rolling boom,
As twilight fades to violet gloom.
Lightning Bolts: 10:50 p.m.
Then midnight breaks the heavy seal,
With jagged sparks of blue and steel.
The heavens tear, the deluge pours,
While deep and ancient thunder roars.
Lightning bolts lash through darkest night,
Until the dawn brings pale, soft light.
The fury fades, the clouds retreat,
Leaving the world washed clean and sweet.
River Run: 11 a.m.
And where the storm once held its sway,
A river greets a brand new day.
It surges down the rocky floor,
The voice of rain, a canyon's roar
Storyteller/Nature Poet - JohnMak
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