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I love the sound of a summer storm.
The rolling thunder holds no fear for me.
It is only sound.
but the lightning speaks with a forked tongue
And burns with each touching of the earth,
Leaving odors of fetid breath
As it trails sulphur and fire
Reminding me of hellfire and brimstone
And what is to come,
Returns once again to the point of its birth,
For mere earth cannot hold the heat
Of its radiant beauty,
For beautiful they are.
Each jagged detail is etched against
A background
Made black by night's deepness.
Defenseless in this tug of war
Between sky, earth, and storm,
Still drawn by its beauty,
Knowing that I cannot touch either,
For the heat will destroy me.
So I sit and watch my futile struggles
Against all odds knowing I am helpless.
For such a summer storm is much akin to me.
And so I have to ask the father of it all
To protect me from myself, for I am weak, not
Insulated against such an attack.
Still I watch, for I love the sights and sounds
Of an early summer storm
Even if it comes from my own heart.

Evelyn Norris