Tempest

The pool rippled in the quiet breeze.
The torrent had finally come to an end,
As the storm’s rage died above the trees.

The distant thunder, though, disagrees.
Its retreat was simply pretend.
The pool rippled in the growing breeze.

I stood there, a victim of nature’s tease.
The wind speed began to ascend,
As the storm’s rage lived above the trees.

The storm returns, destroying all it sees,
Deadly lightning starts to descend.
The pool grew in the raining breeze.

Then, the wind died down to a wheeze.
It had spent all the rain it had to spend,
As the storm’s rage stalled above the trees.

There is one thing that the sky with me agrees.
It is that all things must come to an end.
The pool rippled in the quiet breeze,
As the storm’s rage died above the trees.