Storm

The teeth of the storm,
Came over the hill.
It would not stop,
Nor would it keep still.

Clouds were in streaks,
As they up-ward soared.
And lightening cut slices,
As the thunder...just roared.

Trees were all frightened,
They out did their charms.
So wild were their maneuvers,
As they reached forth their arms.

Rain came a-tumbling,
In a pitter-pat sound.
And the grasses stood drenched,
All over the ground.

The thirsty-soil pleaded,
O Please...let it pour.
Let refreshment come down,
Then let there be more.

E.P. 1908 - 1989