A draft of wind blows softly in the silent night,
It plays a single note that softly breaks the still;
Then catching speed, the dancing breeze blasts forth with might,
Now playing the piece of a hundred strings with skill.

The swaying trees are caught and add notes of their own,
Like a quartet of cellos, with notes that are low.
Raindrops start falling from a sky that once shone,
They start a chorus of bells that gives quite a show.

A frog near the pond sounds strangely like a bassoon,
While the twinkling stars pluck the strings of a harp.
Suddenly a dark brooding cloud covers the moon;
The tones from the cellos turn mystic and sharp.

A cymbal clashes loud as lightning strikes the ground;
The thunder that follows is an angry bass drum.
What were once raindrops are now a torrent that pounds,
While the strings hint at a climax not yet to come.

An unseen conductor oversees this with poise;
He guides all the players as their piece they perform.
Blending with expertise for a beautiful noise,
Swelling with power; this is the song of a storm

A “CLASH!” from the lighting and “BOOM!” from the thunder.
Raindrops fall in perfect time, while wind madly blows.
One final melody in a show of wonder,
Then the music fades as it all comes to a close.

As the first light of dawn slowly lightens the sky,
The bright hymn of a songbird is sung with delight.
A french horn plays a solo that could make you cry,
And the looming dark is chased away by the light.

The dew covering the earth is all that remains
Of the now forgotten night’s brilliant display.
No longer does the wind play the angry refrains;
Glorious sunshine marks the start of a new day.