Past the flames, orange and stilted; <br />and the moon's light floods the lonely fields. <br />Something stirs in midnight's silence. <br />The wind howls and echoes by. <br /> <br />Sweeping the fields and turning grass; <br />breaking the necks of its bloodied roses. <br />The naked arms of the birch trees rustle <br />as the rain lashes and glistens below <br /> <br />until a flash of thunder; silver-white <br />burns the sky and lights the green. <br />The emerald shines and its knife blades thrash. <br />The glass rattles and the fire flickers.<br /><br />Ell Ell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-storm-140/
