The Thunderstorm

Dark and billowing clouds fill the western skies
Lightning streaks across the sunset as the daylight dies
The orange grey light fades into a nightmarish pall
Wherein no hope of stars remains as rain begins to fall

The wind picks up torrentially, a keening horrid sound
Whipping trees and bushes, bending them to the ground
The rain is now a thunder drowning out all noise
And the sky still rumbles, while lightning it employs

The jagged bolts strike and crackle all about the place
The air, it smells of ozone, as it refills the space
The power is quite tangible, my hair is all on end
The thunder seeks to deafen what the blast has failed to rend

A thunderstorm most glorious and awesome in its power
Potent, yes, but short lived, as it departs this very hour