This ancient spirit of Africa, etched in tales to persist,
Harbinger of storms, is part of our legend and gist.
There are many stories of his thunderous roar and fierce cry,
The echoing rumble of the Lightning Bird's outcry.

While he waits, he sharpens his long, curved beak,
Warning the tribe of the turmoil that he will wreak.
He follows the paths of a certain tribe,
And readies them first, as this is part of the vibe.

If violent storm, his cloak of grey shall you see,
If a drought, his appearance is subtle, but key.
More will join in chanting if a wise elder of respect,
Chorus choir of birds fill the air with reflective aspect.

Sometimes a shadow of rain you may see,
It's a cloudless sky - as clear as can be.
You look in awe and wonder as someone calls you near,
It's the Lightning Bird himself with his long, curved spear.

That echoing rumble of the Lightning Bird's outcry,
How powerful and commanding is that booming reply,
In the depth of daylight when all is bright
As a storm brews in the African sky taking flight.

#folklore #Mystery #Nature #poetry

© Sage Rage