Lightning tears the sky in twain
Waves of white come crashing down
With fleeing forms in silver gown
As thunder bursts its blackened chain
Through the grass the waters drain
Their fingers gleam in lightning’s glow
They whisper as they sink below
Ghosts are riding on the rain.
--L.D.
(We all know who LD is, don't we? Sorry LD, couldn't resist posting this poem. The imagery is just too, too good, particularly after our latest thunderstorm.)
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