Storm Softly Singing Poem by Jeanne Fiedler

</>It's 9: 00 pm
The sounds of the night
begin
The whispering, tweeting
and peeping
of the birds waiting...
Then, the darkness.
The train goes by
tooooot!
The tapping sound
of sprinkling water -
raining again...
Growing strong,
it produces a loud
volume of intensity
like flashes of lava
tumbling out of
volcanic clouds
flooooooding...
the front lawn
knee deep in water
Then the thunder
synchronized with
the universe,
and lightning
right in sinc
like it was harmony
for its foreboding event.
A sweet storm
I look out the window
see the puddles all over,
the rain falling as if
from a tremendous
power from an
extreme force

a cleansing
at morning, it's gone.
The robins sings,
the morning fog
brings the light
home...