The Tempest

The Tempest

The wind roars and the rain flies like thousands of tiny daggers,
as the stormy sky rolls and tumbles.
Buffeted by untamed thunder and lightning –
Flashing and booming, then fading into obscurity.

For hours, days, weeks, the storm has prevailed
over sunshine and warmth.
Fading the world to dull, onerous greys,
turning colour into a mere memory.
Remembered by those few beings that exist,
if existence it may be called.

All animosity is lost, survival is the key.
As mice house with the owls. Foxes shelter the rabbits
and dogs kennel with the cats –
For this is no earthly tempest.

It is a tempest that has been surging for forty days and nights.
But even as these words are written,
it is now the storms turn to fade away.
Greys recede and colour seeps back into the world.
Clouds evaporate, leaving a clear, blue sky.
Flowers bloom and trees come into leaf.

A lone dove flies across the sky.

Animals emerge, looking about in wonder,
finally setting their gaze on a masterpiece –

A magnificent rainbow soaring across the expanses of heaven.