The sky turns grey, the air turns chill
A storm it brews behind the hill
Impending rains and winds of gale
The sky it cries torrential hail
I hear the rumbling far away
The voice of gods be heard today
Their fury, they give just a taste
Find your shelter, find with haste
Heed it now, this warning fair
For driving storms now fill the air
Words and Image © The Beginning At Last
The Beginning At Last 
Leave a comment