Spring 2015

A wild storm rolling in across the bay, merging with the storm inside me.

Fingertips on arm

conveying past emotions

timelessly vying for attention.

It has stayed.

The longing for One's contact,

the storm arriving

so effortless yet full of so much

electrifying, surging intricacy.

Lightning doesn't frighten me

as I gaze at autumn storms

rolling across the bay. In fact

I take my son and we sit on the sand

daring, imagining.

When one strikes near

and hairs rise on my arms, ah

it brings you near, even as my son

gathers me up and

drags us away to safety.