The clouds on the mountains like smoke are descending <br />And cloaking the sunlight they gather with force, <br />A storm is approaching with rumbles of thunder <br />And flashes of lightning that follow their course, <br />Ever encroaching the slopes are now hidden <br />They creep down the valley as dark as the night, <br />As echoes do tremble and rain begins falling <br />And I face the wrath of its vengeance and spite. <br /> <br />A strong wind is blowing and trees are now bending <br />As rain lashes down from the coal coloured sky, <br />Whilst shaking the branches with gusts unrelenting <br />And stripping their leaves as it races on by, <br />The drumming of hail that does cover the landscape <br />And glistens in silver as skies start to clear, <br />As a shaft of a sunbeam does shine through the blanket <br />Yet still distant rolls of the thunder I hear. <br /> <br />The clouds on the mountains are moving away now <br />Revealing the picture I so longed to see, <br />So still is the evening so green is the meadow <br />Now lit by the sunlight as if just for me, <br />The birds singing sweetly from boughs in the treetops <br />A whispering breeze brings a joy to the air, <br />As arching above there's a rainbow so vivid <br />That glows on the canvas through clouds of despair.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-clouds-on-the-mountains/
