The Storm

Flashing in clouds dark and foreboding

rumbling and shaking solid ground

birds take flight before the storm

wind wails a soulful song

trees bend kissing ground

eyes watch for signs

of first drops

and then—


. . .

A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.
—W.H. Auden

Constraining words within the structure of a specific form pushes the image and story further than I might otherwise. The challenge always takes me to places I never knew. The Nonet asks the poet to progressively reduce the number of syllables from nine to one in the final line.

We live in an open area with an expansive view of the sky, especially in the west. As storms move in, the forces of nature become boldly visible.

I never tire of the wonder.

pink red buds blossom on a single branch with blue sky and limbs in the background. Text: Poetry centers the heart. by Kathryn LeRoy

. . .

And always—

Be kind. Be brave. Be you.

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Photo: The Storm © Kathryn LeRoy