A SUMMER STORM
Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 9:38 am
G'day Terry....I can do the rhyming narrative with regular ternary feet.. Not very well but it should look right.
A SUMMER STORM
At the rising, with portent of midsummer heat;
fom the east comes the sun with its fiery face.
To a diurnal summons from ages gone past,
this great furnace that flares from the reaches of space
has a task that is set and its progress is sure;
bringing light, making heat, giving life to the land.
And the energy sent from the heart of the sun
will unleash mighty forces from nature's hard hand.
On the fields and the roads, on the tops of the roofs
there is nothing can hide from the heat of the day.
Silent waves of the heat haze are rippling along
like a shimmering lake, on the flats far away;
as the sky burns to bronze and the breath of the air
has gone still, very still, as though fallen asleep.
Far away in the heights a chill crop has been sown,
for the scythe of the storm has a harvest to reap.
From the earth's gathered moisture the clouds start to form
into great gleaming mountains that billow and boil.
Rolling over the face of the land comes a tide,
forming wave upon wave, where the dark masses roil,
so a thick angry ocean is churning the sky
sending flashes of lightning and thunderous roar.
There's a promise of rain and relief from the heat,
such a welcome refreshment from nature's rich store.
All at once with a flash and a violent blast,
by a rush of the wind comes the charge of the storm.
Just a patter at first, just a tap and a knock
then a rapping and banging and rattling will form
a tumultuous tattoo of clattering blows
as the hail smashes down in a merciless spate
onto houses and fields, onto roads, onto trees;
a vast barrage of ice, hurling measureless weight.
For those long noisy moments, the deluge descends,
where it leaves a deposit of crystalline stones.
Now, the gale dies away and the soft steady rain
soothes the hot battered land, as if washing atones
for destruction that's wrought by the fury before,
when the elements raged in a feverish dance.
Angry clouds move away and the sun shines again.
It's the cycle of nature, of time and of chance.
At the setting, a farewell; the day's work is done.
To the west goes the sun with its fiery face.
In the diurnal pattern of ages gone past,
as the earth rolls around in the vastness of space,
there's a task that is set and its progress is sure
so that life will remain on the face of the land.
Endless energy sent from the heart of the sun
will obey unseen powers we don't understand.
A SUMMER STORM
At the rising, with portent of midsummer heat;
fom the east comes the sun with its fiery face.
To a diurnal summons from ages gone past,
this great furnace that flares from the reaches of space
has a task that is set and its progress is sure;
bringing light, making heat, giving life to the land.
And the energy sent from the heart of the sun
will unleash mighty forces from nature's hard hand.
On the fields and the roads, on the tops of the roofs
there is nothing can hide from the heat of the day.
Silent waves of the heat haze are rippling along
like a shimmering lake, on the flats far away;
as the sky burns to bronze and the breath of the air
has gone still, very still, as though fallen asleep.
Far away in the heights a chill crop has been sown,
for the scythe of the storm has a harvest to reap.
From the earth's gathered moisture the clouds start to form
into great gleaming mountains that billow and boil.
Rolling over the face of the land comes a tide,
forming wave upon wave, where the dark masses roil,
so a thick angry ocean is churning the sky
sending flashes of lightning and thunderous roar.
There's a promise of rain and relief from the heat,
such a welcome refreshment from nature's rich store.
All at once with a flash and a violent blast,
by a rush of the wind comes the charge of the storm.
Just a patter at first, just a tap and a knock
then a rapping and banging and rattling will form
a tumultuous tattoo of clattering blows
as the hail smashes down in a merciless spate
onto houses and fields, onto roads, onto trees;
a vast barrage of ice, hurling measureless weight.
For those long noisy moments, the deluge descends,
where it leaves a deposit of crystalline stones.
Now, the gale dies away and the soft steady rain
soothes the hot battered land, as if washing atones
for destruction that's wrought by the fury before,
when the elements raged in a feverish dance.
Angry clouds move away and the sun shines again.
It's the cycle of nature, of time and of chance.
At the setting, a farewell; the day's work is done.
To the west goes the sun with its fiery face.
In the diurnal pattern of ages gone past,
as the earth rolls around in the vastness of space,
there's a task that is set and its progress is sure
so that life will remain on the face of the land.
Endless energy sent from the heart of the sun
will obey unseen powers we don't understand.