I was blessed to wake up to the sound of rain this morning...
Lightning -Bud Caywood (NC poet)
I was caught
in the moment of conifers
rushing through rooms of granite
like midnight strobe lights
slamming cut nails
that echoed me wildly
It ripped over the tent of leaves
and arms like angry pointed words
and the currents of pressed rain
hammered its beautiful elegance
into my fear and awkwardness
of what I did not know
about sudden storms,
and it kissed me madly.
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