Under Bigger Skies

Number twenty:

Reflections in the Rain

I miss those summer storms,
the celestial rumble
whose brave voice
would part the pelting rain
in sweeping tremors.
A moment or two
of excited panic
electrifies my blood
and the charge awakens
my senses,
radiating from my core,
flushing new vibrations
into every stirring sinew.

I miss the deep embrace,
the heavy, wholesome air
whose bold nearness
would coax my latent breath
in eager renewal.
A sigh, an hour
of whetted senses
soaks into the storm
and passes gracefully
onward
toward broad horizons,
cleansing ancient spaces
and rousing dormant souls.

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