It’s the anticipation. . .
There’s only a strip of black on the horizion
The sky is white
But as I watch
The clouds pull back
The rain is coming
And lightning flashes
Illuminating the base of the sky
Towers pierce red through the clouds
And the wind pushes
The thunder begins
Pulsing through the rail beneath me
As my support trembles
So do I
And here comes the wind
Threading through my hair
And I am transfixed as the sky is unveiled
A gaping sea of black suspended over me
I can hear leaves grate against each other
And we all wait
And the first drops come
Striking lightly
On my arms
On my face
I gasp
And here is the downpour
The translucent sheet that covers all
This is
Power
And the rain came

Army of the Night

I stepped onto the porch that night to think
Things over silently, and standing there
I saw upon the canvas of the sky
A stretch of white seemed to defy the push
Of wind that rolled it back. Beneath it surged
A strip of black that flashed with malice, full
And clear. The rain was rushing headlong toward
The place I stood. The thunder growled and shook
The rail, and tree leaves groaned in stark reply.
Oh, rain! dear army of the night, strike hard
And tell me I’m alive. Bring all your speed
And armaments, thrust back the clouds that hide
Your grace. Surge faster, stronger, make me feel
The power in your ancient ways. The wind
Picks up; it answers me. I reach to touch
What should be there. And then upon my hand
Outstretched, there fall the shimm’ring tears, and I
Can do no more, can do no less, then laugh
And dance. The rain has come to me again.





~ Copyright Tori Talamonti 2006