Storming Within and Out

Storm

in gray cloud the storm
comes in, awashing all in gray of sin
a come of cloud and rain this day
awash of thunder
clouds obey

soft at first the rain on wood
and whish a sound of cotton should
remind me of the grays gone by
and lo my ears hear oceans sigh

build and slow the oceans wave
soft and grow the sounds I crave
lo and behold the me I would be
if I were of thunderous brave

whoosh the rain on cotton’s leaves
would allow me again to believe
that all the ways I choose to grieve
would come instant, spend my leave

slow the thunder grows to wake
and no in cumber my noisome makes
but lo this heart of quiet takes
a break, a gap in thunder’s quake

I hold, in hand, this horn of shell
outside the break in thunder’s quell
to my ear, I heed the seed
and dream of beach, and of my greed