Storm

A storm, the rain, tender

thoughts to swallow.

I hear the wind howl as the teardrops follow.

Each one uniquely crafted, a vital piece in the game.

Alone they die unheeded, together they silence flames.

Each drop when dropped carries a thousand stories,

They have seen wars of defeat and ancient battles of glory.

There is something quite beautiful about the dancing trees;

The way their bodies swoon and shake so carelessly.

Why do we brush off nature’s melody as loud?

For thunder is a singing voice, the rhythm of clapping clouds.

Listen to the way the branches transform into limbs;

Crooked fingers reaching for covered chins.

The leaves once dead, left stranded on the ground

Are reborn as they learn to fly round and round.

See, the earth is the stage of a show we call Storm-

A production traveling around the world both cold and warm.

It is what binds us humans as flesh cloaks bones

But most seek shelter amid the walls of their homes.

So the next time the sky drops kisses for your forehead please don’t run,

Smile and take a seat my friend

the show has only begun.