The Danger of Storms
It is a race,
to find your way home before the storm strikes,
before the angry yellow sky turns black.
It is a race
you choose not to run, fascinated by the wind and color,
the approaching dark punctuated
by lightning and the mad cacophony of thunder,
never minding the danger of storms,
for you have borne their wrath so often
that you are inured to their threats,
less reckless than resigned
to the anger that comes and leaves and comes again.
About this poem
I took the picture last night, sure there was a poem in it. Most of the time pictures with a poem in them take a while to settle. This one leaped out at me.
A nice change.