This poem came out of a great night. From about one to two in the morning, there was a huge thunderstorm over my place. It was amazing. Haven’t done it justice, but this is as close as I could get. Nobody on the road, nobody out walking, just me communing with nature even in the city. Awesome.
The leaves are talking in their sleep
While raindrops soothe their slumber
And lightning promises vengeance
On the wind that disturbed them.
The storm begins in earnest
Thunder speaks in tongues over rooftops
Torrents of water drench the cracking pavement.
The weary traveller, crouch
In narrow doorways to watch
The many-textured sky split
By light, by sound, in solitude.
This is feeling alive!
In the midst of summer’s first downpour
I breathe raindrops, wet earth and thunder
My heartbeat the only reminder
That I am not cloud, or water, or earth
Or the tumultuous sky above.
My page is lit by blue flashes
As I shield my notebook from the rain
And wonder at the fierce beauty around me.
© Bridget Noonan, 2011.
Sorry I haven’t been around much. Stuff going on. Life happens.