137. May 17th
The sky is washed over with navy blue,
Darkening the land far below.
The trees and flowers recoil away,
From the daunting, ominous above.
The clouds roll in like waves on the shore,
Smothering light from the sun.
Outside it grows darker and darker,
As if a brewing storm is nigh.
Ere the rise of the sun it strikes,
Thunder lightening and wind.
All of which pound the earth,
With their almighty power.
Yet when noon arrives the storm subsides,
And once again light can be seen.
The trees and plants reach out again,
Enjoying their helping of sun.