Wednesday, June 28, 2017

A Quiet Storm

Subtleties that bake and boil
Smoldering under a noonday sun, 
Never quite erupting into 
Molten fire and lava,

Never billowing the skies 
With fiery ash and fever. 
Never raging, ravaging 
In naked holocaust.

Most content to view events 
With quiet desperation, 
Riding out the mounting waves
That crash against the shores.

Lifting up her chin against 
A wall of rain torrential 
More intent on what was won 
Than what she might have lost.

Let the storm pass – as it will – 
Let Hades dissipate. 
The gold that lies at rainbows end 
Is surely worth the wait.

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