The Perfect Storm

Thunder rolls across the sky,

Crashing, banging, roaring with all its might,

Demanding to be heard by all,

Announcing the storm’s presence long before it arrives.

The rain trickles in next,

A scattered few drops that multiply beyond counting.

Thousands of raindrops fall,

A steady pitter patter plunk

Against windows and walls and leaves.

Then comes lightning,

Quick and flashy and oh so dangerous.

Gone in a blink, expect for the destruction left behind.

The wind mixes with the rain, a dull roar only heard in the way the trees creak and sway.

The storm can rage for hours or minutes,

But these things remain, tireless and enduring,

Desperate to be seen, to be heard, to be felt.

To rule the sky, even for just a little while.

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