“A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Nature's Portent


Calm breezes pass through.
Leaves drift down from tall branches.
A lazy descent.

This cozy moment
fools one into believing
one can rest at ease.

Heavy rain clouds loom.
Darkness on the horizon
augurs force unleashed?


Muffie said...

I think, as a comparison, that we're often lulled into those periods of peace. As with MS, things may be status quo at one minute, allowing us to believe all is well. Then, with a vengeance, we're reminded of its presence. We certainly typify that calm before the storm!

Judy at Peace Be With You said...

Muff, you understood the metaphor perfectly.

Karen said...

I am amidst the storm, but at least I got some rest before all hell broke loose.

Judy at Peace Be With You said...

Karen, sorry about the storm. As I have been in one for a while, I know much you must yearn for rest again. Good luck.