As storm clouds loom in western skies.
Sol has yet to show his face
And I shrink down to half my size.
Creeping, crawling, reeling, rolling
Ponderous peaks of garish gray
Stumble til they reach my doorstep,
Almost takes my breath away.
Lightning flashes ever closer
As the deluge comes at last, and
I, as witness, gaze in awe
Until the spectacle has passed.
Who creates such splendid splendor?
What great wisdom might inspire?
Such a rush of rapid rapture
Had to come from somewhere higher.
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