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

     silence

     love