Thunder Butte

January 01, 2007

Storm and Alone

He sits atop a mountain
Alone, without a friend
One finds it hard to fathom
Empty miles without end

Where the antelope and buffalo
roamed so long ago
and now she stands unchanged
The mountain, home you know

He is only a little boy
Dwarfed by the endless plain
Beholding history without joy
From mountains rising plane

Thunder Butte they call her
A monument to the past
He sits with awe and wonder,
How long can a mountain last?

Dark thunder clouds roll over
Undaunted by nature's mean
Wind swells, screaming, horror
A message to take cover

From a sky grown black
A message from nature`s mother
A warning to horse and rider
One lost without the other

Now a lightning flash and thunder
Roars, no longer any wonder
This small boy is lost and scared
As the world erupts in flash and roar

Why did they call her Thunder Butte
He thinks, as the ground shakes `mid
Thunderous roar, did this old mountain
Always terrify the dumb and mute?

Mid thought, the pony bolts away
Frightened by the attacking fury
Of storm and thunder and flashing spray
A small boy stranded, in nature's way

In the dark he hears a rattling snake
And he pleads with God to help
As he prays the moon comes out
The clouds part, a path to make

The little fellow looks back to see
A black visaged mountain under clouds
Thunder Butte, a kind old friend
Now that tragedy was not to be

--John Crowley
Mike Crowley Monday, January 01, 2007


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