the Storm is coming
i stand in reverence
watching the changing of the guard
as the heavens above me
begin to speak of what is to come
the clouds become ambiguous
submissively relinquishing
their personal definition
to a great presence
that not so silently approaches
they enjoin to speak
with one ominous voice
as the Storm begins
to make her presence known
Brother Wind wisps in
tickling the leaves of the Trees
awakening them from their slumber
as they prepare to withstand
or yield
as will be told
with “Storm’s” fury
or her gentle caress
they applaud
i smell the scent of Nature
in the air
as the once fair day
gives way
to the need of expression
found in the loud voice
of the thunder
there are flashing lights
in the distant skies and
i am in awe
as the horizon
beams with a wonder
we often do not see
the soft pitter patter of rain
walks in softly
touching all that it can
the leaves
the ground
and me
who is grounded as well
be still
that is what Grandma used to say
she even prayed
at these times in my younger life
somehow
i forgot the drill
but today
i too shall spill my heart
my thoughts
and let them go back
from whence they came
and perhaps a name to call
will come to me
as they have done
for Grandma
that name that gave her a peace
that was stilled
when Storms did come
© 22 June 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.
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