Nothing especially fancy for tonight's post - just a poem I sloughed off a while back and only just got around to editing.
Clear
The storm screamed hour upon hour
Tick... Tock... Unreasoning, unrelenting
Winds howling the same note
An angle grinder cutting a steel chest.
All day the trees lashed left and right
Walls complained a sing-song tune
Solid things seemed to yearn for release
For culmination, for a chance to break.
The sound and the pain gave birth to news.
The screaming lowering as the radio voiced life.
The system was passing and soon, "all clear".
We came out into the grey, windswept light.
Ragged winds tugged at our coats and hair
Playful, angry, harmless, like petulant children.
Trees, rooves and other peoples lives, shattered
Strewn about by a weak eyed and pitiless giant.
The sky began to muster its colour
Clouds haunted the horizon like thugs brought to heel.
We began to rebuild, the greatest of all acts of love.
Tensely trusting in that word: "clear".
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