After the Storm

Under the deep dark and midnight blue
Surrounding robins whistle a harrowing tune
The diurnal chorus which rises at dusk and dawn
Awoken by stolen night, a quivering torch has torn
And swollen thunder booming far off
Flickering shadows cast by a frightened moth

Raindrops fall at first as a fine mist
Nevertheless the downpour cannot long resist
Claps of lightning invade the lower air
The torchbearers shelter and whisper a quiet prayer
Roaring winds muffle startled cries for aide
Yet the tongue of birds is all but mislaid

Relentless as the tide the storm continues to brew
Mustering all of itself to display its final colours true
Cold gathers up from sodden ground
Now clearing skies unveil where stars may be found
Stillness settles and is a welcomed old friend
And the peace of God transcends which none can comprehend

By Pete Scopes