The storm comes to me

through poles pinned into the earth

and wires crossing the sky.

Even so, it has lost none of its beauty.

Clouds such as these still call me.

And bolts of electricity that crash

onto the ground not far from where I stand   

command me to watch. 

I have no choice but to look upward

and marvel at the beauty of our Earth. 

Yet, I am certain this will change someday

when man, in his infinite wisdom,

learns to control the heavens

as he has the Earth upon which we stand. 

Then there will only be gentle rain

and the storms I love will be gone.

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