Angry Storm

The storm is an angry lion;
With one hoarse, strident roar
He sends the small animals
Scurrying to shelter.
The gnashing of his teeth
Is a flash of sparks
That precedes the raucous
Rumble of his voice.
His nebulous mane is dark and dense,
A signal of his danger.

With an icy claw
He strikes and slashes the saplings,
Striving to evict his prey.
Failing in this,
He drenches their domain
With bitter tears of rage.