The eternal wind roared last night
Bringing thoughts of Wuthering Heights.
No Heathcliff threw open the window
Imploring Cathy to come in .
Yet I felt the storm grin.
How quickly the lights
Of pubs and clubs go out.
And the reveller’s shout
Is lost in wind and night.
I remember your name
And how the thunder came.
“The lightning is exciting”,
You said. On my bed
There was no lightning.
I have taken some pleasure
When the humid weather
Is cooled by the rain.
But the inner storm warns
“Everything remains the same”.
The lightning flashes across the sky
And I
Hear the roar
Of Thor.
Its just passed midnight and from my window
I am reluctant to go
For I know
That although
The roar
Of Thor
Will be heard once more,
That this show
Of an evening late
Which I spectate
May survive
For a time
In rhyme
I wonder
Who makes the thunder.
Is it Thor
Who makes that roar?
The scientist will say
In a most prosaic way
That there is no deity on high
Merely electricity and the endless sky.
I sigh
For the forgotten days of belief.
This life is brief
And scientists say that there is no wonder
In yonder lightning flash
And the crash of thunder,
Yet still I wonder …
(Written in response to https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/wonder/).
I heard the thunder, neither loud nor proud.
I can not tell
Whether any rain fell,
Yet I know the well
Is dry.
There are no tears to cry
Save for the crocodile
Kind
and I find
That I am sick of the false smile
I wish that a storm would come.
I can neither run
Nor stay
And pray
For a storm to take
All this away.
Once the lightening has passed
I may feel bereft
At the vast
Nothing left
Behind. But the storm must come
And I must not run
Away,
But face the thunder, and stay.
The thunder came last night
But there was no flash of light,
Just a reverberating rumble
And the tumble
Of rain.
“A storm is coming” they said
Yet I hear no thunder
Overhead.
I wonder
Why this dread
Of the mighty Thor?
We close window and door
And watch the lightning’s flame
Put our civilisation to shame.
Thor he came
Long before
I was a twinkle in my parents eye
And the gods will remain
(but not so you and I).
Thunder echoes but Thor
Is no more.
People look skywards as before
But only to remark
That the sky is dark.
The rain will clean
For a while, but the obscene
Heat
That festers in the calculating brain
Will remain.
The sane
Will go with the rain
That cools
While fools
Complain
That nature rules.
K Morris - Poet 