Watching a Storm

WATCHING A STORM
by
Richard Vance


I walk out
To sit and watch and look.
Excitement builds.
Just waiting for an age old friend
Who once again approaches,
Slow at first.
My thoughts serene, so calm,
I gaze out to the west
And delight once more to see
that strange, yet soothing
Yellow - Orange sky.
The blustery wind calls forth to
Makes its presence known;
To tell its tale and
Whip around the braches of the trees.
A subtle warning, crystal clear,
To all of those who aren’t prepared
Or have never had that longing deep inside
To see and feel and touch.
To be a part.
To be alive.
A natural gift felt blowing through my hair;
So fresh, so clean, so powerful.
It elevates my mood.
A deep and mellow Rumbling voice;
Vibrations felt through heavy air.
I feel I’m part of nature now.
A kind and sensual rain begins like
Heaven’s teardrops from above.
I’ve longed to feel that gentle mist upon my face.
And all at once the downpours start.
Pick up the pace.
While so much lightning flashes near;
Lights up the sky;
Metallic taste.
I breath it in
And close my eyes and feel the power
Of the storm.
All truth unveiled.
I just stay, and sit, and watch
As it rages long and full.
I’m in it’s midst.
But all too soon it races by
On it’s journey home, it’s end,
To cleanse, again, the anguished earth;
And as it slips away
It holds me gently in its hand and
makes a promise, soon, to pass this way again.