Rain
A gentle pattering on my window
The sky grows dark
As clouds gather
Tall, ominous.
I make a cup of tea
There is plenty of time.
The pattering grows louder
As I carry my cup to the porch swing
Pull a blanket round my shoulders
Knitted by my grandmother
I settle in, tucking my legs under me.
I inhale the tea-scented steam
And something more
The smell of the rain
The gentle scorch of electricity in the air
Branches shake as the wind catches my hair
Catches my breath.
Soft rumbles in the distance grow closer
Grow louder
As the bright flashes resolve
Now blue-white streaks in the purple sky
A sharp crack so close I feel it
I stretch and sigh
I am the storm
I am
Comfortable in my own skin.
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More stories from Randi O'Malley Smith and writers in Poets and other communities.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (10)
Excellent imagery! I felt like I was experiencing the time leading up to a storm.
Strong poem, and very relatable
This was such a wonderful poem and I absolutely loved it!
I can relate. And the storm is so cleansing.
"I am the storm" - I love this line, it evokes such powerful imagery, thank you for writing this!
This is beautiful. Well done
Love it 🖤
Love this poem, so relatable!
I loved the imagery and the tone. Beautiful and very comforting, well done :)
Beautiful words, and oh so true! Rain is life! Great job!