Cleansing

The thunder is a-rolling
and lightning streaks the sky.
I count the seconds between then
and then I breathe a sigh
of relief.

The rain and hail are fearsome.
They pelt my windowpane.
I count the minutes I hear them
and pray they don't remain.

Mother Nature why the anger?
I guess you need to cry
and cleanse the bitter agony
that builds up by and by.