Lightning on a hill top

There on the vast sea of flooded lights, gold and white:
The landscape, dark- ben't to touch on a slope:
It shone to sight when the floor here shook on thunder;
A stage of sound and a glipmse too small, shadowy
Green by trees, Windows of the wooden house
On top: White wood and a sloped tin roof,
Reflecting the red of the cloud, a little child becokened
Beyond the glass, the face, smash! was shot,
A wind that broke the sill: Like a reflection
Of the morbid night, A corpse fell, a cry
Was heard, and sight
Slaughtered to darkness.
Crimson red was the colour, and stuffy
was the smell of the strike.