A gold red sun lay in the distance
Sloped below black skies
Shimmering gold strikes gently.
Coaching the clouds to pour them selves dry
Yelling, try damn you
White light dancing hard
Blasts of Kansas winds out of their home
Pushes me towards home
Nature’s right brightly burned
Faster does its life come to an end
Blown heavy miles long
No light this time
But a low grumble grown so large to shake me.
I’ve always loved thunderstorms, the energy, mystery, and primal fear that comes with it.