The Storm

The sycamore sways

in the onslaught

of the coming storm

as knees ache

head throbs

to the tune of thunderous

skies upon their way.

 

I watch anxiously

as the first few

tear sized drops hit

my windowpane.

 

Awaiting their brothers

their sisters

dance upon the tin roof

a miraculous masterpiece

of symphony

sounds out

a Spring afternoon

in the tide of

Nature's splendor.

 

 

Reviews

[Bear]

oh this is a fine write!! Takes me back twenty years to the days I'd fall asleep to the rhythm you so eloquently describe of the rain drops falling upon your window panes; for me it was upon the tin roof below my then bedroom window, covering the patio one floor below.

I "replaced" that roof of years ago with aluminum cans upon my patio... the sound is similar and has the same effect lulling me to sleep.

[J. James Reider]

you have done a wonderful job of depicting the "birth" of a storm. it does well to place me at the beginning, smelling the rain soaked air that has yet to provide any rain touched my senses in the opening line... and I can even hear the first few drops on the window pane... beautiful!

[Arthur Henn]

I love thunderstorms, I miss them. Wonderful poem!

a miraculous masterpiece
of symphony
sounds out
a Spring afternoon
in the tide of
Nature's splendor.

Superb!

Art

[robin]

This reminds me of Thoreau...and that's enuff said!

[Justin Tobey]

Incredible! You used great sensory details to describe the rain, and the whole poem gave me a sense of the beginning of the storm, when things begin to build up. Wonderful!