"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Poem: Spring Thunderstorm

The light has changed, so I step outside;
already the air feels brighter, charged
with a frizzing, leaping energy. Leaves
are lifted aloft, upheld and turning.
All my senses are keenly alert.

I'm in no real danger here, and yet,
I feel my breath and heart-beat
quicken in response to a blinding,
searing flash; a primal response,
I am ready to fight, or flee, or fall.

I should step away, now, but I don't.
I think I am safe here, watching 
the rain lash, these bucking trees.
Rolling thunder churns across'
'the sky and back again; Roaring! 

My hands grip the rail, holding on;
the darkness writhes with fire that
streaks in all directions, Am I truly
 here, or taken into a marvel out of time? 
A tree near the house is struck, and burns.

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