It stormed last night
Dark clouds rolling in to obscure the moon.
Just another storm, but wait…
I am compelled to go out and watch.
What an unusual thing to do.
She appeared within the lightning burst,
Dressed in a cape of raven feathers.
She had no face
Moving in counterpoint to the storm, she danced
Arms thrown wide as though to embrace
The gift of the spirits.
The cadence of her steps now quick, now slow
Her body sinuous, no, sensuous, her joy evident.
But she had no face
Light storms dancing upon the raven’s wing
Glorifying the colors within,
Black, blue, green and brown.
Embracing all that she was, all that would be
She had no face
But I knew…..she was me.
5 comments:
Very nice and beautiful like all the others.
wow, I love your poem. Like a wild thing, free to be... of course your art is beautiful also as always!
Well said
The capture of the personality in the poem is very perfect!
impression of an expresion.... jz awesome...
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