Passing storm

 
 
The problem is that things that have no significance
Have overtaken those that have.
My phone bill sits here in front of me
Whilst soft rain falls outside in pashy drops
That shake bright flowers
And sends them trembling,
And small creatures run for cover
While I sit here watching and smiling.

I find my life is made small,
Like a leaf being whirled on a whorl
Of water spiralling down.

But then a warm wind blows through my hair
And thunder rumbles and rain falls
And something of a natural order
Passes by my place.

And in the aftermath
I ask why that felt so different.
So much better.

 
 

Advertisements

, , ,

  1. Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: