The Storm

The sky darkens
From white and gray
Darkening, deepening
To a purplish black
With a hint of green
At the horizon.

The wind freshens
From a flowing breeze
To a rushing, frenetic
Hell bent gale
Ripping through boughs
And limbs of steadfast trees.

The air grows thick
From a dank dampness
To a heavy, foglike
Stillness and droplets
Begin to stain the ground.

Fluorescence emanates from
Behind The clouds, backlighting
Them as an exclamation
And a bolt of awesome current
Dances wildly across
The thirsty plains.

What was silence is torn
By an exploding, deafening
Roar that is felt as much
As it is heard, and then
Begins to wane
Rumbling as it departs

And all are joined
In a focused, singular moment
As water pours from above
As the crescendo is reached
And this lone second, is secluded
To this place and time.

And then it all
Begins to ease away, Softening
from darkness Back to light,
from flashes to twinkling
from roar to rumble,
then stillness

exactly like the first time
we made love.