A storm brews

At peace, the ardor of my heart,
reclined in olive coat.
Nay wait, she stirs, my lady wakes.
A graceful shift I note.

Delight! This moment I shall seize,
and witness her transform.
From clement dame, she plays so well
to brutal altered storm.

Her coiffed crown, the first to rise,
the heat she does inhale.
And in exchange, her vehement rage
a catapulting gale!

All peace. Then wrath. In moments shift.
Who is my labile belle?
The one in whom I seek repose,
yet brings forth scenes from hell!