An anvil crawls across the sky, of soft shape but steel gray, and I wonder when to expect the inbound tempest fray? When comes the lightening and thunder, the shaking window sills, the neck hairs standing upon end -- herald of lightening chills? Will it pass by rumbling distant or strike the local spire? Will it rain so hard that it puts out its own blazing fires?
Tiger Riding for Beginners 
I love this poem. I can almost hear and feel the thunderstorm approach.
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Thanks
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You did a good job of capturing the coming storm.
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Thank you
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