In the stormy evening I sit in perfect contented
serenity in my tattered and torn leather chair
listening to the sweet music of the rain pounding
upon the rusty tin roof of my creaky old cabin.
I am awed by the ethereal crashing of the thunder
against the dark stormy skies,and am overjoyed as I
look out my old window and see the brilliant flashes
of lightning reflected upon the brittle panes of glass.
The lovely sounds of the waters rushing turbulently
down the winding little creek sing a beautiful most
peaceful song to me in the darkness of this wonderful
electrically charged night.
And the blissful howling of the winds through the gnarly
old weathered evergreens as they delightedly rush through
the rainy night are an unpleasant reminder of the city
life that I so gladly left behind.
Donavon Scott Vinson
