Thunderstorm
Thunderstorm
The sun, a blush on clouds so high,
Yields to a canvas, bruised and grey.
A sudden shift, a wind-whipped sigh,
As spring’s delight takes stormy play.
The drumming starts, a gentle beat,
On thirsty leaves and window pane.
A welcome change, the air so sweet,
Washed clean by nature’s cleansing rain.
The rumble rolls, a distant drum,
A giant’s voice in playful roar.
The world alive, no longer numb,
A vibrant dance on every floor.
Fat drops cascade, a silver sheet,
Diamonds scattered on the ground.
The scent of petrichor, so neat,
A perfume on the air unbound.
Lightning streaks, a fleeting spark,
A flash of light in nature’s hand.
The storm unfolds, a vibrant ark,
Renewing life across the land.
So snuggled safe, with book in hand,
The storm’s embrace, a lullaby.
A symphony in nature’s band,
A joyous song beneath the sky.
