I remember this storm from our front yard in Lawton in the early 1970s.

Dusk Storm

Dark,
churning clouds
rush desperately towards
dull-rumbling
thunder as
distant lightening courses
through ominous eastern skies.

Fresh
raindrops
glisten in deep green
grass; caught in the glow
of an almost setting sun;
peering fiercely under
the retreating tempest's forbidding canopy.

Long
summer shadows
stretch ever farther against
intense colours of sunset and storm;
a breath-taking sight,
full of furious beauty
and sharp, powerful contrasts.

Trembling
uncontrollably,
I dare to breathe again
cool, storm-freshened air.
A mere and undeserving mortal; utterly engulfed
in this fleeting moment, and for all eternity,
by the aweful grace of an Almighty God.

Next poem: Five Scents Worth

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part I: Nature and the Nature of Things