The storm

The waves roll high

They try to reach the sky

The wind blows low

It passes under the prow

The gull poised in [mid] flight

Sees the men in fright

It shrieks with delight –

Its feeding chance is bright.

The clouds, in anguish, roar

As the planes over it, soar

They mumble and they growl

As over the lands they prowl.

The fishes in the deep

Over the corals leap

With glassy eyes they wink

As boats capsize and sink

The storm gathers force

And breaks out in wild fury

Nature is its judge

And Nature is its jury

Wrecking everything

That lies in its way

It’s like a vengeful spirit

That none can hold at bay.

Laughing in delight

At the human’s plight

Its force is almost spent

The air, with screams, is rent.

Holding both its sides

It laughs – till they do split

Its screams, to whispers, die

Its passion is now dry.

Sighing with deep content

Though its back is fully bent

Away with the wind it goes

With many curtsies and bows.