Out of the still the thunder roared,
Out of the dark the lightening soared.
Two powers of nature heavenly made,
That God is angry is often said.
The rain it cools our sun drenched ground,
And saturates all around.
The streaks of electric fire the sky,
So we can breath a worthy sigh.
As the rain pours we’re given negative ions,
As ferocious as a multitude of lions.
For these strobes are the kings of the heavens,
They whisk us all into sixes and sevens.
Giving headaches and easing as well,
While the ocean rises in a tremendous swell.
Humidity now has had it’s day,
As white out conditions come into play.
Ultra violet fills the void,
The roar so loud as the sky is toyed.
Eventually the raindrops tap more sparsely,
As the sun returns, softly, gently.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem