mark haley

Visit the Mag

Backlit clouds hint
at the presence of the day star
illuminating stones beneath our feet.

Shallow light rustles mist
over autumn’s raspy grasses
saturating chills beneath our skin.

Our old dogs lag behind
on this journey toward shelter
panting stiffness beneath their stride.

Thunder pushes our shoulders low
until roofed walls open protection.

Screaming sister wind
whips rain like trains
on tracks against the sky,

and we worship the time we are given.

Brenda Warren 2013

18 thoughts on “storm

  1. “and we worship the time we are given.”
    Any shelter in a storm becomes a castle.
    He becomes king–and you QUEEN…
    and the time allowed therin is precious.
    Nice “take” on the prompt, and thanks for visiting mine!


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