Tuesday, May 8, 2012

A Storm was on the way


 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A53577mJXXE&feature=related (Afro Celt Sound System - Seed    Of the bitter sweet, this is the sweet. 

 

A Storm was on the way


Contact made
Drops of dew
Diffusing vision
 “I’m getting wet.” 
Read the text.

A storm was on the way

Beginning simple
Tiny letters streaming out, “L.L., nine?” 
The retort
just as short
 “Fine”

Arriving early, look at sky
Pelting light breaking darkness
Artillery strikes against the Tyrant king
Cold wind sweeping ground
Advance wave
Foreboding tempest
A sliver
Of silver
Tore the black blue canvass

A storm was on the way.

Outside patio
Excited conversations
Matched electric air 
At tables confederated covens
Of tribesmen boasts
Or friendly roasts
Measuring and moving

Meanwhile thunder’s moan
Began to peal
Across the pregnant sky
Diminutive drops
The breaking of water

A storm was on its way.

A celling of screen
Offered resistance unseen
Save turning drops
Into a mist

A storm was on its way.

Receiving round
Followed by
New Text
“What are you doing?”
Reply
“Getting Wet”
Pause
“Look up”

At entry
Stood her sentry
Muddled mane
Dirty blonde
Smirk unaffected

As her steps pulled near
Rain quickened
She sat down

A storm was on its way

Though across
The two
Began the slow advance
Of diminishing degrees
Of separation

In an unspoken dance
Conversation flowed
As the celling of screen
Offered resistance unseen
Save turning drops
Into a mist

Raised eyebrow
A hand’s gentle caress

A storm was on its way.

Rain’s continued pour
Too obvious
Too difficult
To ignore. 

Matted hair falling flat
“I’m getting wet” 
“Where should we go?”
“Just
Follow
Me”

A storm was on its way.

A grasp of hand
A push through crowd
Smaller table near
The rear
Crowd sought sanctum
Leaving two alone
In a drenching cloister
With one long bench
Separation ceased 

A storm was on its way.

Drawn by the gravity
Held in the other’s eyes
The undeniable pull
Eyes slow burn
A gentle trace along her leg
In pelts of thunder
The language unspeakable
began

Her eyes beckoned

Contact made
Drops of dew
Diffusing vision
 “I’m getting wet.” 
Read the text.

A storm was on the way.    

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