A storm, the edge of dryness
rumbling-on and bubbling-up
brewing, a hunger acruing
where drought and flood
are preordained to meet
in one pulsating, cascading beat
an offering, a sacrifice
now the gift of rain will suffice.
-lauren6
[After half a dozen 'beefy' storms passed us by throughout July, here in Norfolk, tonight, finally, one has blessed our parched earth with a downpour, but it may be too much in one go, running into the depleted rivers and out to sea. But no complaints this time!]
Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm.
Robert Louis Stevenson
