The earth itself rumbles
rom the violence of the storm.
Trees bow and scrape
to the majesty of the storm above,
below the rocks tremble with fright
at the approach of the storm daemon.
I fight the urge to run in the yard
and dance with this creature of
spray and light and sound.
majestic in in her power
glorious In her majesty.
Fifty years younger
and I might have.
Time has endowed me
with a certain discretion,
not much, but some
No less enthhralled
I sit here in the front room and
watch the stor
roll down the street,
across the playground,
then out over the lake..
Not really safe but
sheltered from the beast.
Safety is an illusion.
Vector of improbabilities and
impossibilities.-- lilmsy stuff.
when faced with this weather.
FLILMSY when when compared
to creation’s neglegent power.
protected by these gosimere
assurences i’ll watch the show.
Bookmarks
Share
Print
Save