Alone in field of stubbled wheat
garnered straw a round bale seat
lightning loosed is searing free
and thunder growls way o'er the sea
I watch the storm away out east
flashing, snarling, a raging beast.
Cattle are watching by the river
all wide eyed with hides a-shiver
deer unnerved by thunder crash
turn toward the woods and dash
while foxy Tod just glances back
at each unholy, rolling crack.
The distant storm moves up the coast
beating hail on the wavelet host
and seated on my bale I see
an echo of the storm at sea
a distant touch of heavenly ire
thunder wild and lightning fire.
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