GRUMBLING OLD MAN
The thunder rolled round the valley like a grumbling old man,
Lashing out with lightening bolts part of some hidden plan,
Although he did not sound hostile, he rather seemed in pain,
As if being reluctant to release his life giving refreshing rain.
Through the night he carried on and until the darkened dawn,
Then he rolled slowly away as his sad face wore a frown,
But gazing through the window seeing a much brighter green
I wanted to thank the old man for the rain to brighten the scene.
For dust was laid and the very thirsty earth was watered and fed,
Done while I lay listening to his work being all cozy in my bed,
It works well does mother nature when the storms come at night,
Ready for another sunny day that is them all clean and bright.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 6 May 2006