Storm Baptism

Storms in the sky-deep, a tyrantous roar,
Drumming the heavens a-tremble,
Like God-spoken waters on infinite shore,
Waves rumble.

Ira diei: the thunder’s reply,
Promethean flame full of glory.
Lightning, fire-phoenix, will flash and will fly,
White fury.

Blazing and hammered, the sky-deeps will flow,
Noah’s water released once again:
A baptism on our repentance below,
Cleanses sin.

 

Lightning Camera

When the lightning was striking,

It struck me that some higher being might

Be documenting the region

With some enormous antique flash-pan camera.

And when under the dim red light (not infernal)

The liquids brought our images swimming to the surface,

They showed me dancing, laughing,

A blur living so hard and fast that focus

Could not catch me.

You too, smiling, inconsistent,

Happy and inconsistent,

Insisting that life meant nothing

And finding every meaning you could.

And here I was,

Expecting to see you starched and upright,

With a pale blank stare,

Looking at the camera

Like a wall painted white.

Winds

 

Shelley starts with the West wind, and Autumn,

A quarter explorer,

And many curse the rough rivalry of North Wind,

Though MacDonald knew better.

South Wind: easier still,

With visions of travel agency scenes and a gentle warmth blowing,

And East, famous for ferocity:

But I move further.

I want the winds no weatherman ever gestured about

On a screen which is really blue,

But looks like a quarreling dozen amoebas.

I want to hear descriptions of the Winds of Change, that

Broiling impenetrable dust storm, and when

The dust clears, nothing is quite the same.

Or who remembers the Ill wind,

(It blows no good)

With its leer and thunderheads misshapen?

Some vaguely mumble of Solar Wind:

I vision some proud frigate plowing through a starry sea,

Sail straining with a strange and cosmic gale.

And as this poem is written I feel

The gentle steady push of the Winds of Time,

Rolling me further across the ocean

Like a forsaken tumbleweed.

 

Storm Song

Music murmurs, glowing brightly,

Sound and time entwined together.

Subtle rhythms, woven tightly,

Drop like rain from stormy weather.

Cymbals clash and lightning flashes,

Thunder drums eternal chorus,

Wind with water howls and lashes,

Deeps of ocean tossed before us.

Great symphonic storm arisen,

Far beyond our music’s failing,

Breaking down our silent prison,

Smashed by this harmonic hailing.

Cleansed and washed with stormy singing,

Skies will brighten, hearts be lifted,

Noble themes of hope are ringing,

Nature’s music, glory gifted.