The Storm Poem by Brian Joseph Dickenson

From blackest skies the thunder roars,
Like creations cannons booming,
Lightening flashes rend the air;
Apocalypse riders looming.

Stately trees bend or break,
As the wind whips up a storm.
On such a night of natures wrath
Tragedy is born.

Wild things cower their dens
As tree limbs fall around
Rising river floods the plain
Many creatures drown.

Power cables fizz and snap
Writhing like electronic snakes.
Sparking, arcing, like things insane,
Until in the end they break.

Welcome fingers of red dawn appear,
The long long night has ended.
Some survived but some did die.
On luck, so much depended.

Slowly, slowly, the storm abates,
Risen waters fall
Survivors emerging from their dens
Give thanks, one and all.