The tempest

When the dark wind blows, even the tallest trees fall, with majestic arcs into earth-shattering sound, illusions of strenght bound forever to the ground. The northern fires' glow, a whirlwind of leaves and dark clouds from parting snow, the sky tipped over in rivers' flow, a shower of tears to fill the lightning's plough. Arms wide open, I call it to my chest, this land-cracking tempest, from which there is no rest.