AFTER THE STORM



Whilst coming to terms with my own stormy personality I find solace in the changing moods and seasons of nature. I empathise with the sadness of a cloudy, grey day and feel brightened by the bright, blue light of a Spanish sky. Wind moves me, both agitating and invigorating.  Rain refreshes, nurtures the baked ground and washes away my tears as it cleanses the dusty air. 
Whilst we wait for the storms of winter to pass I retain the hope of longer days, flowering blooms, the coming of the light and lightening of mood. All things must pass, as in Seasons, life. 


AFTER THE STORM

The brooding sky darkens as 
hostile clouds shroud the hills,
snuffing out summer sun's last dance. 
Wrathful winds howl their ire,
in mournful seduction
as field mice sneak
through forgotten cracks
seeking shelter in warm kitchens,
a quiet refuge to while out the rage.
As cleansing rains nurture the
parched earth for winter's sleep
we weather the storm, 
find a place of peace, deep within
to await spring's calm renewal.


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