Description
Beneath the brooding skies so vast,
A storm is brewing, fierce and fast.
The earth stands still, a breath held tight,
As shadows birth the tempest’s might.
The green field bends, yet does not break,
Awaiting thunder’s roar to wake.
A dance of chaos, wind and rain,
Nature’s power, raw, unchained.
In the distance, a fleeting glow,
Hope flickers where the wild winds blow.
For every storm must reach its end,
And peace will find the fields again.
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See more by Leslie A Spurlock on Remx at remx.xyz/leslie-a-spurlock