Even the Tempest
- Corey Ponder
- Dec 14, 2023
- 1 min read
A cloud rolls in
Dark, ominous, foreboding.
Opacity can't obscure
What lies inside.
Dense with the accrual
Of pent up rage,
Power inspires awe for
What it holds in. Not for
What it lets go.
The anticipation of storms
Shaking more of heaven and earth
Than Storm’s arrival.
Sagging under the weight
Of repressed tears.
The cloud hangs.
Reluctantly.
Dragging under the pressure
Of depressed atmosphere
The cloud releases
Eventually.
A cloud rolls away.
Lighter, airy, unburdened.
Carried by Aeolus to new
Horizons. Those tears
Having purpose beyond
Falling or colliding
With hard earth.
Each hit softening starved
turf yearning for more.
Each drop watering dormant
Seeds awaiting awakening.
The echoes of a Storm passed.
Wash away topsoil
To bear witness
To sprouts that
Flourish.
Harsh, but not hostile.
Even the Tempest
Holds power to
Nourish.