By: burgundy bug
Big rain clouds creating a dramatic sky over a landscape with three windmills at the side of the river with reflection in the water during a summer storm in Leidschendam, the Netherlands.
Source: Envato Elements
a perfect summer storm rolled in
just on the cusp of spring,
at the sight of rain, my eyes widened,
my pupils dilated,
the thick, muggy air held me in its embrace,
caressed my skin on the loneliest days,
cut off my oxygen whenever i thought i’d caught a glimmer of sunlight,
i found the haze cloudy and intoxicating,
then came the lightning,
bright blue flashes raved in the night,
hair-line streaks zig-zagged through the sky,
the atmosphere beckoned for attention,
in fear, we stood in apprehension,
tension built until it buckled,
struggled and muzzled, but the aftermath wouldn’t be muffled,
then came the thunderous rage,
the howling sleepless days,
roaring, booming, crackling,
cackling, she said, “oh, that’s just God bowling,”
strike after strike,
not a pin left in sight,
quiet down,
i want to hear the angelic choir sing loud,
proud, prominent,
promising,
church bells and wind chimes,
breathe deep,
flooding, don’t sink beneath,
dive into the symphony,
exhale,
wed under the cloud’s veil,
let the skies serenade you through the desolate isle,
let me know you pervade, too, let’s get washed away in style.
— 2:00 on june 4th, 2020
summer storm pt. ii
summer storms,
give me your encore,
downpour and wash over my skin,
holy waters rinse away the sin,
i was writhing with false prophecies,
let them fall back with the seas,
as i arise from the tide,
no longer tongue tied, just wide eyed,
i sing along with the choir and thunder,
and we dance all night under the covers,
i tell you bed time stories of my past beneath this pillow fort,
i sip the nectar of your smile, its flavor is my comfort,
amidst a summer defined by its confines,
the constance of these four walls,
their nature, infinite and expansive, only to beckon and fall,
as you cut clouds, after all, they’re only vapor,
my thoughts begin to taper,
and tip tap to our tic tac toe, it’s a tie,
mutual and everlasting, i foresee a fruitful july.
summer storms, i’ve seen you through,
and i still stand tall adorned in your morning dew.
— 20:57 on july 6th, 2020
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