A poetic description of watching a thunderstorm..Feeling natures force |
WATCHING A STORM by Richard Vance I walk out To sit and watch and look. Excitement builds. Just waiting for an age old friend Who once again approaches, Slow at first. My thoughts serene, so calm, I gaze out to the west And delight once more to see that strange, yet soothing Yellow - Orange sky. The blustery wind calls forth to Makes its presence known; To tell its tale and Whip around the braches of the trees. A subtle warning, crystal clear, To all of those who aren’t prepared Or have never had that longing deep inside To see and feel and touch. To be a part. To be alive. A natural gift felt blowing through my hair; So fresh, so clean, so powerful. It elevates my mood. A deep and mellow Rumbling voice; Vibrations felt through heavy air. I feel I’m part of nature now. A kind and sensual rain begins like Heaven’s teardrops from above. I’ve longed to feel that gentle mist upon my face. And all at once the downpours start. Pick up the pace. While so much lightning flashes near; Lights up the sky; Metallic taste. I breath it in And close my eyes and feel the power Of the storm. All truth unveiled. I just stay, and sit, and watch As it rages long and full. I’m in it’s midst. But all too soon it races by On it’s journey home, it’s end, To cleanse, again, the anguished earth; And as it slips away It holds me gently in its hand and makes a promise, soon, to pass this way again. |