When thunderstorms come out to play,
And lightning o'er this earth is seen,
Dense clouds descend in colours grey,
And rain pours forth, where sun has been.
When crescendos resound in humid air,
And exacerbate our troubled sky,
Will all the power residing there,
Look kindly down from portals high.
Such danger lurks in flashes bright,
Splitting the heavens so mercilessly,
But what an amazing glorious sight,
Portrayed here in all its ferocity.
©   Ernestine Northover