Where the Clouds End
It starts like the rustling of paper.
As the wind breezes through the leaves,
dust swirls into a gauzy haze.
The skies darken with foreboding.
Gray blackness looms like a blanket.
Ripe round droplets tap, tap, tap.
And crescendo into a deluge.
The storm exhausts herself.
And the rains back away.
Their cleansing work complete.
Silence follows the clamor.
At the line where the clouds end,
the filmy ceiling dissolves into the heavens.
Nourishing waters soak deep into the earth.
Calming light returns anew.
Trees stand steady and tall.
Grasses dance with grace.
Flowers rise to the joyful sun.
Peace lies softly in the air.
This poem was inspired by my hopes for a breast cancer survivor friend of mine. She was in the storm and I so wanted for her to reach a point of calm and peace. The poem came to me one day as I drove through a storm, thinking about her, and saw upon arrival at my destination the line where the clouds ended and the sun shone.
* I took this photo of the day lilies in my backyard in Iowa. I love how they lean toward the light.