Storm

A poem of the beauty displayed in a fall storm.

A veil of black cotton
Unleashing its wrath below
Fallen remnants of a shattered ocean
Air becoming mighty wolves.
Flashes of light thrown like a spear
Fury’s incarnation without chains
An image like no other.

Nature’s anger pouring out
Enforcing terror by its mere presence
Such rage and depth beyond words

Time stops
Breath ceases
And only the storm is present
As if all else had fled
The pure wrath from above

As swiftly as it began it dies
All is still
In awe and disbelief
Of the mighty storm.