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Storm The sky and the lake are twinned, silver mirrors as thunder sounds in the distance trees are bowed, leaves powerless, battered by the rain and wind. . A loon calls out plaintively, a brief tremolo chicks burrowing into her back. Islands are peering out of this gray plain indistinctly smudged by storm’s fingers. The wind scolds me, whispering in gusts Of leaf talk, howling around the corners Of my cabin, scratching at the cedar shakes threatening and beautiful simultaneously. I am so happy in this moment that sudden tears flood my eyes, tighten my throat, and steal my breath. Will I ever see anything as beautiful as this lake, this storm, this moment again? |
Additional Notes:
For my Deephaven, with gratitude.
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