Late Night Storm in July

a free verse poem

Image by WikimediaImages from Pixabay

It feels like a deep rumble in the belly of the earth.
Roaring through the skies like it came right out of 
the ground, a fat belch set free to shake the darkness
in the skies. The churning light, pulsing within its
thundercloud womb, burning to strike trees 
from root — the shift and boil and release.

That rumbling billow cannot be simply the shifting of air.
That sound that brings me to melancholy depth,
inner cogs grinding away, time anchoring to emotion.
A soul sitting still is moved by these sounds. 
Now, the rain. Paced and steady she is carried in
on the bowling thunder that unearths me. I imbibe energy.

I am jolted. The summer storm alights with all her fury,
unleashed on thirsty ground and earth-clinging trees,
bending in the throes of her gusts. Dripping patter
hammers the roof, drums out the monotony of a day
too long and a night too short. She is unleashed,
a great pendulum of ferity, flogging the night sky,
and I am unbound. My inviolable spirit — reborn,
a fat baby slapped again and again.



This poem was originally published on Weeds and Wildflowers, a Medium publication.

My name is Christina. I am a poet. 
:::i paint with words:::

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