The Storm


Ice cool wind whispers shivers across her frail frame. Limbs wave in a cadence to the circular motion of the earth’s breath. She catches it.

Reaching out. Combing each rooted strand with it’s sound. Lifting. Dropping. Drifting. Dancing in hypnotic rhythm.

Breeze brushing blushed cheeks. Soaked vision she envisions as she stares into the horizon. The angel’s brushstrokes, a dramatic canvas. Clouds billow, rolling like frothy waves. Breaking wings. Time flies.

Replying to the push and pull. Breathe out. Dark skies ignite spark filled light. Soul gazing at the bright white into the heavens. Split second it licks reality.

Intense immense rush. The heart pounds. Rain drops kiss sacred ground, immersing themselves. Deeply. Mysteriously pure. Disappear.

The touch of each cloud’s tear lifts her. The spirit within yearning to return. Out of her skin. Thunder cracks through the open spaces. She reaches.

Trees sway giving in, and take back their stance.






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