Storm Hunter

Grass StormWarm, indolent air lies upon the ground

waiting. The cat lies hidden in the heat,

deep in the grass, watching its prey – no sound

disturbs the ancient, primal drumming beat

of blood inside the temples. A slow breath

of air moves stealthily among the trees

while nature waits in silence. Life or death

will be decided by a sudden breeze.

The smoky river eases its way through

the valley under sullen yellow skies.

Dark clouds, heavy with rain, move closer to

the earth. The cat, with shaded yellow eyes

watches while shadows darken all along

the shoreline. Patiently and quietly, it lies

unseen in the grass. Ancient, primal song –

drumming silence pierced by the heron’s cries.

The air collides and lightning cracks the sky

while thunder low and deep moves through the ground.

The rain unleashed in torrents melts the eye

and beats the rolling earth with drumming sound.

And then—just as suddenly —it is gone,

the thunderous clouds swept far to the east.

Late afternoon light creeps over the lawn

and down to the river. We are released.

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