Aftermath

Aftermath

A poem by Barb Harwood

Thunder—anger voiced.

Lightning—shards of overwhelming life, unleashed.

Wind—the patterned and impulsive on their course.

Pent up maelstrom all;

perfect storm.

Snapped twigs,

sodden boughs asunder,

triad leaves, downed and trampled; 

Brokenness across the lawn—

in the street

upon the rooftops.

Will depleted, trails off as

slight breath of breeze meets steam upon the pavement.

Fireflies marshal quiet.

Nervous, 
stars emerge.

A tired sun awakes

and with her God to man bespeaks 

not of the whirlwind or the squall;

the frenzied pitch and pellets of the rain—

But of the pleading

ardent

and expectant aftermath--

beyond the raking of the scene
that puts to superficial rights all which had lain askew-

to ask and put to answer what will be gained
what will be gained
be gained 
be gained...

in the aftermath. 

Copyright Barb Harwood