The Thunder

At the edge of hazy horizon in the sky of slate he sees the raucous cloud clumps on the wings of storm ride. Sparked by their contra current he bursts asunder in anger the opaque sky’s void, shatters it by the ripping rumble. He releases his pent-up fury, designs for a fraction of time the cold lattice of azure fire, striking whatever lures him. He races on lazuli light, making the trail of strident sound, as he strides to vibrate with deafening echo the rattling air.