It's only noon yet daylight has been expunged,
by the horizontal, slanting rain from the steely sky;
Matchstick brambles bare in the winter woods,
bending to and fro', broomstick reeds shake with ferocity.

Mocha colored waters, coffee-grounded mud beneath,
dim the reflection of the swelling banks above;
Moments later the moss-laden stream angrily tosses,
as each ripple tears a hole within the lonely cove.

Masters of the Universe often question God's existence,
while many of us sit and watch Nature's rousing fury;
We have no doubt of powers wielding far beyond us,
as we view their constant revelations rising clearly.

This scene is only one of many down at Lawrence Lake,
where sunshine glows on the green pastures of summer;
But now as we witness a late-winter's storm's audacity,
our souls fill up with heaven's sheer glory and wonder.