The Storm

I

He was telling me about
the dark sleep of morning
the hands of birds
and the ghost of the moon
but all I could think about
was his smile

II

Thunder sleeps
in a feathered cloud-blanket
with a clear view
of the stars

Lightning is a dancer
When her feet touch the ground
fire blooms like a rose

III

Sometimes I see things that aren't really there
possibilities
and when I ask,
he says "No," and turns away

IV

And I was thinking about
thunder-babies in cloud-cradles
and the breath of the East
and the light before you close the door
and I knew
it would never be the same

V

But maybe it was my fault for asking

VI
Storms are
Rain
Dreaming of gold

And maybe I was dreaming too

VII

I lack lightning's firey fingers
but not her crackling anger
I dream
of fool's gold in China
and I know it will never be the same

VIII

The seven stars of heaven
shine through the foggy sky
I am the soft rain, dreaming that
he is talking
about the love between flowers
the apple blossoms
and bees' honeyed breath

Meanwhile the earth smells sweetly
of roses and raindrops
and thunder and lightning go dancing