Poem: Standing in the Rain

Standing in the Rain

In a few short hours
you have seen the sky change
from a peaceful blue
to a red of fury,

watched and smelled the storm
as is flowed around the mountains
to the valley,
felt the wind rise

and swirl in anger,
and as others fled inside their homes,
you stood on the porch,
waiting out the storm,

letting it's anger flow past you,
it's thunder, the shock of lightening
that strikes the nearby tree
on the creek below your home,

feeling the rain,
blown sideways, drench you
as you stand, not watching the storm,
but living it

as it rips through the valley,
and subsides,
and in the same way,
you see the clouds blow past,

the wind calm,
the sky open,
and the freshness of that time after,
again, not watching it, but living it,

not a spectator,
but part of the drama,
wet, and hopeful, enjoying the freshness
in a new way, more real and more alive.

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The picture was taken a couple of years ago, a few miles south of Fincastle. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom