Mother Nature
Has a broom.
Stands above Earth,
Power over life and ruin.
Sweeps with the wind,
The rain and snow.
Pounding thunder and lightning,
Making sunshine glow.
And, when she feels,
It’s about time,
She\'ll start to clean,
The dirt and grime.
She’ll blow the dust,
Dry the mud.
Dissolve salt and sand,
With her soapy suds.
The hail will pounce,
Gusts scrape away,
The residue of those,
Harsh Winter days.
She’ll move the air,
At high velocity.
Warm and cold clash,
Pushed to the sea.
Branches will break,
Power lines will snap.
Eventually become frayed,
Pendants as they flap.
For her task,
She’ll quickly complete.
Oh, so powerful,
Never skips a beat.
What’s left for all,
Is fresh and new.
Fair weather clouds,
Across a sky of blue.