NATURE HAS SPOKEN

Source:

 

Lightning hits the spot.

Thunder rumbles by.

Clouds flee in horror.

The sky turns black in fear.

Our town is under attack.

Nature has its final say.

THE DEAD GAME

BEND TO THE WIND

Source:

 

 

The trees bend to the wind.

Lightning flashes across the sky.

The rain drenches the town.

I’m safe and warm inside.

Nothing can reach me.

The storm ravages the land.

And I watch from my window.

I can’t be touched

Until…

THE STORM

 

The storm is approaching the shore.

I can feel the dampness in the air.

Mist spraying against my face.

Strands of hair lifting in the wind.

Rumble of thunder in the distance.

Flashes of light crossing the darkening sky.

Yes, I can feel it.

It’s almost here.

Let it roar.

THE APPROACHING STORM

 

The storm is approaching the shore.

Dampness fills the air.

Mist sprays my face.

Strands of hair lift in the wind.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Flashes of light cross the darkening sky.

I can feel it.

I can smell it.

I can almost taste it.

 

A MIRACLE

sagansense:  itscolossal:  The Cloud: An Interactive Thunderstorm in Your House   We might try to re-create nature, but we’ll never be successful. We might be able to create a symbol of nature and hang it from our ceiling, but it will never replicate the grandeur and beauty of nature.
sagansense:

itscolossal:

The Cloud: An Interactive Thunderstorm in Your House



Try as we might,
we could never copy nature.
It could never be replicated
in its ultimate grandeur.
Its power and majesty never duplicated.
Flashes of light and mere rumbles
do not make a miracle.
Nature is not the sum of its parts,
but a heavenly presence in our lives.


RED IN ITS ANGER

I can feel the storm approaching.

Moving closer to shore.

A spray of water in my face.

Salt in the air.

Palm trees swaying.

Sand rippling.

A wildness in the air.

Birds fleeing for safety.

Waves crashing.

Sky turning darker.

Red in its anger.

Roaring its fury.

Raining down tears.

When will it end?

Once the sky is finished.

Once it’s calmed down.

The sun will peek out.

The birds will return.

And all will be right

with the world.

Tantrum over.