The light after the darkness 🌗

Betwixt yon late November moonlit melancholy skies of a moody blue

A storm was a’brewin as feathered friends flapped and flew

From such a rumble in the jungle and a terrifying, thunderous hullabaloo

And a little trickle of tepid water turned into torrential teem

Whence wet woodlands were shrouded in shadowy, seethes of saturated steam

Whilst great floods ran down the valleys within every gorged out crevasse and spluttered seam

This was indeed a nightmare as the local folks may often reminisce, but never a dream

Yet that dreadful, roaring, raging recollection

Told tall tales of heroic, gallant men and saviors, as they first dawn’d on the powers of reflection

Safeguarding all their farmsteads,  without any fatalities on that act of awesome perfection