Libby Hart -I

Storm in an Epiphany 

 

 

I understand there are people

who conjure storm in teacups,

but I much prefer the real thing.

 

I gravitate towards true drama,

an inclination of suspense.

 

And what came

had been limbering up for days.

It was a festering of sky

 

gathered by an army of strength

in cloud and a carriage of wind.

 

It shook all of the mountains

then a rough captain

scorched superstition over landscape –

 

writing only of the darkest things.

His foot soldiers grumbled every rumour.

 

It was then I realised

sometimes I pray for rain

and get thunder.

 

Sometimes I get things so wrong.