Thursday, February 5, 2015

Storm Lust

I love storms.

As I child, I went to a Girl Scout camp situated on the bluffs above the Sassafras River, where it joins the Chesapeake Bay. My unit, appropriately named Osprey, perched right on those bluffs. When storms came in the evenings, I’d slip away to wrap my arm around a pine tree and lean out over the edge of the bluff, watching the anvil-shaped clouds boil up the river. I could drink in the newborn air, feel the power of the wind swaying my tree, and hear that beautiful sound of tree tops before a storm.

The staff always found me before the storm hit. For some reason, I think I pissed them off…

In honor of last night’s thunderstorms here in Florida, here’s a poetical rendering of a stormy night.

Storm Lust

In the grainy grey
Unlight of a stormy night
I lie a knot of tension
Against my love’s soft back
Out of the house
Across sifted silver dunes
The waves pulse their call
To the thunder’s rising drums

Eyes wide, waiting
Lightening flashes outside glass
Pulling my heart from safety
Toward struggle

Reveling in release
I tiptoe the bedroom and
The wide wood floors
Catching glimpses
Of light and life beyond

Darting, turning I
Dive into the night
Every inch of my skin
Making love to the wind
My arms embracing
Flashes of passion that streak the sky

As the rumbling crescendo brings
Rain’s absolute surrender
Pushing up against the drops
Reaching out into the wind
Standing barefoot, sure-footed
On black, slippery jetty rock
I am alive

Only after
Chilled, exhilarated
Wonderfully, only me
Pure inside my skin and out
Part of nature’s arcing current

Can I enter a room
Touch a warm towel
And warm, dry, tired
At last find sleep
In warmth

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