Thunder rumbles deep and low
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment