Where were you during the storm?
When the wind shook the sky
and bullied the trees, and that old windmill,
just bare bones,
took the brunt without a word.
And then the darkness bellowed and taunted the light
like a petulant tyrant.
And the rain battered our skin as though
we were made of paper.
Did you see the clouds puff up,
all arrogant and full of fake machismo?
But the sun smirked and pushed the squall aside
like it was nothing and I felt okay again.
photo courtesy of Tiffany Simmons
Pen in Motion 