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