Pitter patter is the sound that little droplets make,
When they fall from dim lit skies onto the dusty ground.
And all around the air it quakes with soft, roaring rumbles,
As dark shapes up above fill with a momentary fire.
The din you hear that's all around first seems light and peaceful,
But soon shifts to something of a dark, discordant nature.
The sky turns to a ghastly grey, the world around feels grim,
The comfort of a bright, warm sun fades with clouds overhead,
The wind it whips the great oak trees – back and forth they bend,
Their leaves take flight upon the breeze, their limbs come crashing down,
The rain that once fell with such kindness – kind it is no more,
For now it strikes the earth below like bullets hailing down.
And all the while the wind will scream with a mighty war cry.
A promise to destroy whomever stands within its wake.
YOU ARE READING
Summer Storms & Other Poems
PoetryI know I said poetry isn't really my thing, but I had to write a blank verse for class and I'm actually really happy with it, so I figured I'd share. I'll also put any future pieces in here as well. Enjoy!
