Stir... I arose at midnight reaching for the pillow which so recently held your dear head in somnolence... I am disquiet with aching in my realization that I have wakened - alone A distant grumble of thunder sounds, lowly; perturbed by withheld rain which will not yet be birthed, the sky this night voices also her need for release Moon, profiled - dimly opaque among companions of stars, sequestered within a quieted gloss of cloud stirs not - blissfully unaware of the turbulence in earth-bound hearts... � K.E.Cline, 7/16/97 |