STORMS

Sun's rays shine through soaring puffs of white
With a soft glow that gently warms the earth
Feeding - Giving life to all that lives,
An eagle high in the sky - Rides the gentle wind
Carrying him along his days journey
Observing every detail that passes under his wings;
The forest is at peace today - As all that dwell within
A moose rubbing antlers against the bark of a strong tree
Sounds of the woodpecker echo through the air
The rustling of brush as a black beer forages for food.

The sky - Shades of blue and turquoise hues
Clouds pure white and bright dominate the sky
Bellowing towers - Monuments of nature's artistry;
Beauty to be adored - Yet must be feared
So immense as to bring awe - Yet demands respect.
As the wind shifts these serene giants of beauty
May turn to fury and rage - Without any warning
Lashing anger outward - Displacing the peaceful day
Replacing all that is sublime below with devastation,
Unleashing a power beyond any man's control.

As the light slowly fades the darkness becomes apparent
Clouds become heavy lowering themselves in the sky
As the white turns to dark shades of grey,
A once blue sky turns to hues of black and purple
An eerie ambience takes control of the surroundings;
Intense white streaks dance across the sky
Lightning flashes - Giving birth to the roar of thunder
Explosive rumbling that is felt as well as heard
At times deafening - Intimidating - A compelling sound
That demands attention and caution in it's presence.

Gusts of wind howl - Lashing through the treetops
Giving off a cry of torment - Echoing rampage
As if arms are reaching out - Grabbing - Encompassing
Pushing against everything in it's path - Thrusting
Inflicting a force of authority against the mighty trees;
Stout giants of the forest sway helplessly
As their grandiose figures engage the storm's fury
Yet standing tall in defiance of this confrontation
Enduring all of the power unleashed against them,
In a battle that leaves only the strongest to survive.

The sky begins to part - Rays of sunlight appear
Downward beacons pierce through the clouds
As if a laying of hands - Blessing all that is touched,
The storm has passed and serenity is being restored;
In the distance a gift of radiant beauty is born
That brings a spirit of peace for all to behold
The end of a storm - The birth of a rainbow.

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This page was created on January 15, 1998