Night Gallops In

Is the thunder frightening?

To me,

it is a lullaby

like nighttime

galloping in through the window panes

The taste of laughter

at the back of my tongue always

is a hot meal

of thanks

for the joy sprouting up

in small white flowers and the breeze

Now this steady peace, uprising,

is a tree

rooting itself within me

explaining my urge to climb

reach

and let go

The time comes

when shedding is natural

and naked white fresh

flesh

is necessary in its purity

The sun now beams so bright

it is stunningly harsh

Until raindrops make into a

convex confusing mosaic

my window

and my view.

And, once again, nighttime gallops in

through the window panes...