Thunderstorm
Hot air is chased away by the cool breeze
And the gray clouds move across the blue sky,
So low as if to touch the tops of trees
They sail so fast as if on wings they fly.
The first drops of the cool, sought-after rain
Falls gently on the leaves of the old oaks.
Heavy raindrops fall on the dusty lane,
And the rain into the thirsty earth soaks.
A blinding lightning strikes the old oak tree
And with a loud crack tears it asunder.
The noise echoes over the green hills, free
The charred tree trunk shows its mighty wonder.
The deafening, reverberating boom
Echoes through the woods and the leaden gloom.
Author: Katerina Koroleva
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