Storm-Life

Why is Oregon devoid of thunderstorms? Oh, how I wish for a tumultuous, end-of-the-world tempest...


Storm-Life

A reckless breeze, infrequent burst,
as fickle as my mind,
dramatically unrehearsed,
though never unrefined,
foretokens - but a paltry first
and furtive warning for the cursed -
the onset, close behind,

as roaring wind, ungodly wrath,
arises on the sward
and surges down the staggered path
abreast a howling horde,
though all too quick to cut a swathe
and drench the fields in a bath
and burst, unduly poured,

till restive breath, bare residue,
now carrying the train,
is left alone, of all the slew,
a remnant of the rain,
to make of it a morning dew
and nerve the worsted world to
receive a storm again.