[ScubieNuc]

I've been gone for awhile, and had some amazing experiences. The following is bad poetry, and feel free to rewrite, but it summarizes one particular event.

Lightening cracks overhead, Thunder shakes you to the core.
Hail pelts your skin, Rain soaks your clothes,
Your breath hangs like a tiny cloud in the cold air.
You pray that tomorrow will be a hot dry day.

The morning sun burns through the mist.
Beads of dew hang like pearls on the long meadow grass.
Watching as the shadows of the pines become clearer,
A rush of thankfulness erupts from your inner most depths.

Thank you God for the showers, because without them,
We may never truly appreciate the sun.

[Soaring Feather]

Hi ScubieNuc!

Welcome back.

I would guess from your poem you have been camping.

The morning sun burns through the mist.
Beads of dew hang like pearls on the long meadow grass.
Watching as the shadows of the pines become clearer,

These images you describe are especially lovely. I would not call this bad poetry. Very nice indeed. ;)