The I of the Storm

I regaled my land with thunderings of merriment          
lighting my dark chuckles with bright flash of wit,          
I tickled trees, seas, oceans, till my joke was spent          
then rested to gather strengths to blow my season's blitz.          
Now I blast you foul storms your puny ambitions befit,          
as I reign over you tempestuously  crack and clap          
your puny stone buildings I will blast and split          
and rend your clothes and silly flags to scraps, as they flap...          
         
I blame you, you blustering creatures, for downpouring of my ire          
you forever chasing seasons of ease,          
climbing up for the secret of eternal fire,        
to power your life and turn my gales to balmy breeze...    
How dare you make my clouds weep, with stormy seeds,          
I am the life spreading Storm, you cannot control,          
I view you shower as a damping turbulent disease          
but, it may be, you do have a role?          
         
I will blow you down to a gory smear          
across your burnt and blasted arid lands,          
till nothing remains not even a tear          
then scour you gone with my whirlwinding sands.        
Your poisoned flesh, not fit for Earth's viands,          
but your bones, your dry bleached bones        
will nourish my green and pleasant sphere,          
till then I shall weather your howling, squalid, moans.