Obsidian Clouds
A dark sky, still,
Something is astir.
A distant flash of lightning,
Disruption in the air.
No birds are flying
All sheltering in the trees,
The atmosphere oppressive
A feeling of unease.
Waiting for the maelstrom
Clouds obsidian black,
Again the lightning illuminates
The storms oncoming track.
Soon to be upon us
Our excitement tinged with fear
Trees now start to bend,
The thunderstorm is here !
Copyright © Gary Smith | Year Posted 2018
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