The Storm (Thoughts on Five Years)

My lover is the storm who flies fast above this drenched soul.

The billowing clouds of Love's fleshly mounds shadow the land;
promises a quenching of a lover's lost wet.

With lightening, she sees the land waiting for her;
With thunder, she call out to him.

The storm is wild and unyielding;
powerful and plenty.

The land is open and receiving;
of the love the storm brings.

Bearing life in the aftermath;
yearning for a return.