Storm clouds crowd the twilight sky,
Making the horizon look like
An arched doorway to a land of the rain gods.
The trees bend low as the raging wind
Drags the branches to the ground
Without a straight intent.
The air is pregnant with
A whiff of dampness
Carrying in its wake a thunder squall.
I am reminded of childhood summers
Spent chasing nor’westerly storms
In hail drenched afternoons.
The storm in my head rages
With as much lust as the one outside
But I know that it can’t steal the peace that is in my heart.
The rain washed skies look a beatific blue
Reminding again that you’re never the same person
When you come out of a storm as the one that walked in.