The storm is watching over me

A thunder storm is coming.
A gentle breeze caresses
the window curtains.
A breeze scented with life
of rain,
of things green.
The voice of the storm
is a Wagner aria,
a clash of steel,
a Teutonic giant,
demanding the land.
When its lightning flashes,
you can see the monsters,
in the night sky.
Towering mountains of clouds,
held aloft
by branches,
of pulsing light.
I feel the power in the storm,
it soothes me
with its force,
its guardianship.
I sleep peacefully
the storm is watching over me.

Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour

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