.
.
Calm
followed by mist and rain
precedes the storm.
Sounds
of ball bearings bouncing
off the rusted tin roof
one by one
then
by shovelfuls.
Horses whinny
and kick their stalls.
Rolling thunder
slowly sweeps
the largest pasture
beating a rhythm
on her drum.
Whispers of wind
find cracks
between the boards,
whistle
their mournful
tune.
Lightning
flashes brilliantly
in midnight
eyes.
.
Thanks Noorain, for your kind words. I love storms, but find them a bit terrifying as well. I was trying to capture this juxtaposition in my poem. ~ Dennis
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Yes, so much power. The gentle patter of rain, very soothing and the air smells so clean. ~ Dennis
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Thanks so much. I love the photo of you, as a child, on the dock. That’s where I’d like to be. ~ Dennis
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Reblogged this on berdie75's Blog and commented:
His poetry speaks for itself!,,,,like paint on a canvas!
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Beautifully said! loved reading it! :) regards Bernadette-The words Canvas (www.berdie75.wordpress.com)
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Dennis Cardiff: Poems and Prose 
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