“Storm”

Clouds gather heavy with threat in the east,  
A humming prelude, a pause in the breeze,  
Shadows grow deeper, the sparrows retreat—  
The storm bears its promise on thunder’s cold leash.

First comes the flicker—forked lightning’s white scar,  
Splitting the gray in its bright, jagged art.  
Then sound follows after, a grand rolling drum,  
A call to all creatures to shelter or run.

Raindrops crack open the hush of the street,  
Drumming on rooftops with restless, wild beat.  
Wind sweeps the branches, bends willow and pine—  
Dancing with tempest in intricate lines.

The sky folds its anger in roiling bouquet,  
Yet beauty persists in the chaos on display.  
Puddles find silver in flashes above,  
The world washed anew with a storm’s sudden love.

And just as it came, the tumult retreats—  
Sun rays emerge through the lingering sheets.  
Earth breathes in silence, now fragrant and warm:  
Life finds its peace in the wake of the storm.

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