The sky above the beach has turned to grey,

And soaks us with torrential floods of rain.

Then there is a jagged bolt of lightning,

Echoed by a rolling clash of thunder

That stridently stirs in the roiling cloud,

And driven on by icy cold north wind.

 

I brace myself against the beating wind,

With gaze turned upwards at the steely grey,

Praying for a break in glowering cloud

To mitigate the steady falling rain;

My ears assaulted by clash of thunder,

Portended by spiking stabs of lightning.

 

Cowering from lacerating lightning,

Hunching my back against the wailing wind;

Trembling to resounding thrashing thunder,

Shivering through the swirling shroud of grey,

Soaked in torrential sheets of soaking rain

Under deeping banks of lowering cloud.

 

Emanating from this clamouring cloud,

Endless striking bolts and sheets of lightning;

Shivering through pulsating streams of rain,

Tumultuously whirling in the wind,

My countenance reflects the skies of grey,

And heart beats in harmony with thunder.

 

Covering the thrumming of the thunder,

An intimidating mask of murky cloud

Reflecting in the waves of stormy grey

That form such dark contrast to the lightning;

And all the while the whirling of the wind

Blows almost horizontal sheets of rain.

 

Then as my face is ravished by the rain,

And hearing tormented by the thunder,

I lean against the pounding of the wind

Below the heavens envelope of cloud;

Awaiting bright vivid streaks of lightning

That slash across the skies beset with grey.

 

So as the rain pours heavy from the cloud,

And thunder swift follows after lightning,

I huddle in the wind beneath the grey.