Thunder

To hear the rumbles in a day,

each storm vest that shreds the soul,

then spreads the wings

from the visions of peace

where the dove within flutters

and longs to soar

through the thundering tinctures

of azure and claret stress soaked billows,

which stretch across one’s mental sky.

 

Though the world becomes

a windswept majesty of tempest twisters,

even when the body bristles

with the refrain of anxiety’s cymbals,

in the heart can rise the hope

for a glide beyond the ravages

from each squall that tests the spirit.

 

It is the echoes in the memory

who chant that eagle’s cry

that gives plumes in the darkness,

ever reaching past the fears.

 

And in the midst of each new challenge

there remains the confidence and serenity,

over the times one touched that airy loft

where tranquility stilled what shuddered

with such dread and tears.