Stormchaser

There was a girl,
Perchance a someday inamorata,
She told me of storms,
She was afraid of the thunder,
The primal sonance of it,
The unbridled decibel of its call,

I am no fighter,
But for her I’ll hunt tempests,
So I sally forth,
On to tornado alley,
To chase the rains and bolts,
To smite them in return,

Over stream and crag I clamber,
Battered by gusts and pellets of blue,
In tinfoil cuirass and rubber boots,
Toothpick blade and bottlecap shield,
An unrequited knight,
A banner of naivete at my back,

I nip at the storms heels,
The cyclone bellows in fury,
Neon glances all about me,
Burning the soil,
I am a flea to its authority,
But still I strike,

Just for her,
So the thunder ceases,
So she no longer has to be afraid.