When rumbling thunder booms, and lightening streaks,
and roaring winds tear limbs and bark from trees,
a voice is heard - within my soul it speaks:
with reprimands that bring me to my knees.

The clap of rustling leaves applauding spring:
creates a message to my inner core;
as flowing fields of pansies dance and sing,
that same omnipotent voice is heard once more.

Shimmering waves from summer's radiant heat,
draw word mirages through the humid air;
interpreted by my throbbing pulse heart beat -
the source I recognize : the voice is there.

Then finally winter freezes spoken breath,
and on the tips of icicles silence suspends.
For those who hear the voice pierce shrouds of death,
the message through eternity never ends.