Summer Storm

Grey clouds shift upon a restless sky

Lightning bright before mine eyes.

Forked point dashed from open beak

Of Thunder Bird, yes, hear its shriek.

Loud are the chariot wheels of Odin, they sound

Rumbling, rumbling all around.

Herne the Hunter stringing his bow,

With spectral troops and dogs in tow.

Heavens pour forth the warm waters from above,

Upon the green earth, the trees, and gently fleeing doves.

Just then, the clouds part with pastel hues

Of the day’s dying Sun, Iris is His muse.

The winds sigh, the trees do toss and turn

And the Wild Hunt retreats with the skies on fire to burn.

Then night takes hold, the calm breezes blow

And it was but another summer storm.