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.
Roger Singer 