Calming waters as still as glass.
As quiet as the clouds that pass.

The same clouds that are plotting silence.
To create an act of violence.

Here comes the wind with just a whispering.
The waters bubble gently like skin blistering.

Waves rolling into fizzing foam.
Nature has awoken and longs to roam.

An outburst, a cry, a tantrum of sorts.
A collision with itself to which it consorts.

The sky is strobing and the birds make haste.
Their homes and lives are laid to waste.

A tree's strength is futile from a tornado's stroke.
A city is scarred once the earth has broke.

Nature is being natural as it intended.
It does not understand that it has offended.

Whether it comes sharply or expanding in a swarm.
You can not place blame in the midst of a storm.