Tempest

Rain on the roof is proof

that God loves a cheerful giver.

Give yourself to me, be my lover,

The salt in your sweat tastes like sin,

a sigh, a breath of life on the skin

Sends a shiver down a spine, yours and mine…

And thunder has a mind of its own

Moving the ground around our home,

Shaking the windows, doors and walls of our kingdom

A chorus of angels’ battle cries, the war

making queens and kings of us all…

Our eyes are listening to the vision of each other

As the lightning flashes lines of hell

knives of white carving up the thick black night,

and the evening is nothing but

ebony and electricity.

Souls surrender to the music, the movement,

the melody is just right, the harmony tight

closer and closer wrapped in the rhythm

of fingers drumming on skin

hearts thrumming in the summer storm

like wind bending wet limbs,

trees stand fast with branches bowing,

saluting us, giving us honor, allowing,

admitting the truth of us.

The stars hide their eyes in deference

refusing to be a reference,

we only need One light to guide us,

and it is not the moon, that withered

waning yellow circle is buried in deep

piles of clouds and a host of fog and mist…

and this is what I’ve missed the most,

this ferocious, fragile, you and me.

jbh

5.22.2012