Storm Language

Sometimes life just needs something to clear the air......

Bloated fish belly moon
hangs heavy
in the oppressive night,
face expressionless,
a pregnant pause
waiting for a question.

Cumulus clouds
gather
at the edge of perception
flashing exclamation daggers.
Humidity presses down like
an unrelieved argument.

Firefly dance
ceases,
Mosquito hum fades.
Curled clouds,
belie commas of silence.
Bellies growling in hunger
answer unasked questions.

For a period
icy drops fall-
run on sentences as the wind
pages through the maple;
Hailing invectives--
a staccato beating.

Then a heartbeat of silence
punctuated by background noises as power returns.
Clouds mist into the void:
the golden moon again reigns.
Cool air wafts, embracing
the beginning of a new chapter..