Storm Movement

It’s raining across the river

From the safety of a dry window,

I can hear angry tigers

They thunder out their challenges and warnings

Carelessly flicking out bright snarls of lightning

They are fighting over some trophy, I think

Of rain, sky, or the land beneath

They circle and slash, shaking my bones

And filling my head with their bright-metal rage

What is there in me, that paces and growls back?

That longs for a jungle in this flat, peaceful place?

For I can close the windows

And shut out the noise

Pour myself sweetly

Into calm, sunlit days

But despite all the comfort

These blankets and bed

When the next storm sweeps in

And I watch it begin

I know in my heart

My backbone, my head

I’ll only see tigers again…