I miss the thunderstorms that we shared
silent
as the wind bled over the fields, bending ear and stalk
to its clever fugue,
only the first sign of what was to come...
the beginning loop in a spiral of descent into madness, anarchy and passion.
with heady sighs and demented kisses it would engulf us as we laid there on a bed of writhing grass,
feeling it ascend
watching it grow
hearing it groan
in staccato bursts of unstoppable force.
and with starbursts like fireworks and sonic booms the lips of heaven would touch the breast of earth,
uncoiling and rolling in an electrifying serpentine dance,
scorching beyond recourse until even in its saturation the earth was parched and in need...
dizzy and confused in the heady rush of
strike and retreat,
caress and pull back.
and the thunder was in our ears, building from soft slow rumbles to bellows of demand and release and the rains burst forth with unstoppable force, sacrificing its own power to the needs of the earth that receives it gratefully and happily, the clouds spending themselves, slowing the storm gently until it was over...
until next time