RECONCILIATION

A short work

Under low branches and steep hills
We fly faster and faster as the storms
Creep just past the horizon, ominously
Blasting loud thunder
Cracking the sky in strong percussion beats.
The rain has formed a line
Behind us as we trudge on ethereal
Beasts of wispy night
That circle and herd us back and forth
In a weaving motion towards solid formed terror
Grown real and supine.
Strong gusts blow back our motion
As we lie still and unmovable
As sheets of rain cascade
Across our faces washing away
Dusty remnants of the past
As the breeze cools forming
Life sustaining dew.
Whole again, we now march home.