waiting for clear skies


storms come
with hovering bluster,
lightning strikes,
sharp-edge hail
and stripping winds,

then if luck holds,
they move on
to torment others
far away
and soon forgotten

if forgetting can be more than a wish

yet under a muddied moon,
clouds turn inside-out
and tempests rage
that force the lady fortune
to take shelter,
helpless in her watch
as a single cloud swells
to father devastation

as little things joined become mercenaries

when the servants
to the old gods
sweep away the clouds,
will charm remain
with proud, welcome countenance

or will the disrespectful assault
leave absence
to haunt memories?
© Beth Winter, 2014

Public Domain Photo