Reality | Real People Poetry Collective

A Clear Sky is but a Passing Storm of Silence

The sky flowed into the clouds

Like a plotting shadow

Threading its fingers together.

From one side of the atmospheric ceiling,

There was no blue sky.

From the other side,

The sky blotted out the clouds

Like a plotting shadow.

And I knew that it was coming.

It was in the air.

So I waited at my window sill,

Open to the clear air.

And that scent lingered -

That scent that tells you

The rain is coming soon.

Thunder rumbled from above,

Tearing through the blue sky

And scaring it into dissipation.

And I knew that it was coming.

Rain was on the air.

I shut my window until there was

But a thin gap. Then I listened

And watched, for the sun was still

Out, but invisible, except for the light

It cast on the land. The sky, chased away

As it was, showed no sign of coming back.

So I waited and listened and watched;

And as to my wish, light arched down from the sky.

And I knew that it was coming.

Thunder was in the air.

Perhaps some would have mistaken it:

'Ah, the sun has come again!' Indeed, but

It is still there. No, this lightning,

Sending shivers down my spine - more dangerous

Than it looks, is a mere precursor to a great

Clashing of forces over my small head.

Titan versus titan, massive grey warriors

Ready to do battle.

And yet, all of this was a mere precursor to what was coming.

To what is here.

Rain pouring on my slightly opened window,

Other drops washing away the ones before.

I closed the window,

Picked up my book

And listened.