waiting at vine city station

when the thunder speaks and the odd luminescence
of the storm impinges upon the staring eye
terror itself streams down from the dark sky
and horror transmutes into its own quintessence
the weeping rock's astounding deliquescence
seems beyond natural as the long moments fly
the red leaves on the trees a kind of lie
odd and astonishing this autumnal efflorescence
waiting as the rain pelts down with raging force
time stretches into an new magic form
the gods themselves announce with angry power
the laws of nature forced from their normal course
replaced by newer far more terrific norm
before which all us mortals have to cower