Thunder clashes in the distance, lightening striking the sky,
The beginning of a dance, raindrops the voice of a slight sigh.
Rain clouds running to the horizon; of blacks and grays,
The color is of the age of dancers; a slow dance of ballet.
Trees sway in the wind, everyone soul watched in the direction,
Eyes set upon the raindrops as they appear in the revelation.
Movements swift and fast, as calm and subtle as they flow,
The melody singing sweet and sinful as the moon glows.
Everything becomes still, they finish up their dance for the night,
The feeling strikes in the core, as the sweet tune reunites.
The wind ceases, and the thunder cracks as they make their disclosure,
The song making its soft delicate end; it ends its beautiful composure.
