THE STORM

The aftershock of the storm

left a numbness of quiet. Leaves

trembled from remnant breezes.

Puddles reflect a sky willing

to improve. Cool air refreshed

the skin.

 

What was brief, yet boisterous,

recedes like smooth water at low

tide. The anger within the clouds

drifts to a new horizon; distant

rumbling like cannons randomly

announces a continued presence.

 

We are relieved, understanding once

again, there is a power we cannot

control.

 

We gather and move on.

 

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