PRESTORM

Alone on a hillside overlooking a lake,
When a storm was about to begin,
He saw the lightening flash, felt the thunder shake
As the clouds came rolling in;
They were dark down below and white up above,
But churning and swirling within.

The breeze which brushed the hair from his face,
Sent ripples racing across the lake,
It rushed the leaves in the trees overhead
As if Doing so for his sake;
The most beautiful sounds it seems to him,
Are those only nature can make.

Between the clouds through a patch of blue,
The sun streamed from the skies,
The lake brightly shone with a silver hue
Like a jewel before his eyes;
It occurred to him he had caught that day,
A glimpse of paradise.

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