Poem Hunter
The Storm
(25th March 1943 / )

The Storm

Poem By Ernestine Northover

Blue hills, along the horizon hugging,
Like a mountain range in mist,
Lightning flashing, thunder crashing,
Part of God's almighty fist.
Clouds descending, bowing deeper,
Within their centre, shadows form,
And, as if this world's a sleeper,
It lays waiting for the storm.
After the onslaught of the raindrops,
Silence all around is heard,
Then within this peaceful stillness,
Awakes the sweet notes of a bird.

© Ernestine Northover

User Rating: 4,9 / 5 ( 35 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

Brilliant! ! ! ! just Brillliant! ! ! Love Duncan
Ernestine, again this is very good indeed short but oh so evocative. brilliant! Bill M
Beautiful. It reminds me a lot of one of my father's watercolours. Enough said.
A poem with a lovely flow despite the stormy content, and I dug the bird ending.