To see the hurricane,

From the same eye level,

What a awesome sight!

For it is not white,

Nor is it purple,

It is Golden.

It is as though men have sought battle again,

To see the golden light,

For it to capture the dark horizon,

My oh my what a sight!

Each bolt looks as a burst,

And they are seen from far away,

And yet I cannot stop watching and wondering.

The tendrils of lightning,

Arch far and wide,

Starting in the south and dancing to the north,

In this dance much can be seen below,

And yet nothing is known,

It is only when the lightning dances on the ground,

As concern is shown.