After the Storm

All my life I've stood
With my eyes half closed,
Firm wind blowing in my face,
Combing through my hair.
Maybe you know
They way it whips
In a stiff ocean breeze or
A cold mountain storm.

The same currents stir
Under my skin.
I hear them swishing and rushing
Through underground arteries,
Gusting forever
In and out of my lungs,
Taking from the wind
And returning it
A touch warmer now
For having crossed paths.

All my life I've waited
For a Feeling,
For a quiet space
In the eye of the storm
To breathe deep,
To pause for once
With nothing
Breathing down my neck.
No pressure from within,
No ticking time bomb,
No cloudburst threatening
To drench me to the skin
If I didn't run for cover.

But rain fell in sheets,
Wind-driven.
I walked without stopping
And learned to love
The wet cold,
The numb
In my toes,
At my finger tips,
On wet lips.

What else could I do?
How could I help
But love
When the cold
Kept me awake
All night?
That's when stars are sharpest
In a black sky.
That's when autumn colors
Are brightest in my mind's eye.
That's when the wind
Tastes best.

Sometimes the Sun
Came out,
Just long enough
To melt the ice
And warm me
All the way up inside.
That's when I took off
My shoes and socks,
Laying back on warm dry rocks
Not a care in the sky.
That's when I felt I could
Laugh right out loud
At nothing at all.
That was a good day.

All my life
I've been breathing shallow
Watching the skies
Sometimes enjoying the rain
Dripping down my bare face,
Down my neck,
The red sun
Falling past the horizon
Somewhere beyond soft clouds.
All my life
I've been waiting
For the next crack of thunder,
For lightning to open the sky,
For the earth to move again under my feet
I always loved that best.

I think I knew I was waiting
I didn't know what for
Until this morning
When something was
Different and new.
I think I knew I would change
I still don't know how
But I sense something like
A sun-baked rock
Melting the ice
From the inside.

Maybe this is the calm after the storm.
The smell of damp earth
Feeding new life
Is heavy in the air,
The soft rain is warm now,
Washing away old stains.
Maybe all along
I've been the plant
Awaiting my turn to grow.
Who can know the seasons of life?
Maybe all these years
Have only been
April showers.

I'm watching the horizon today
Face to the breeze
Warm and gentle,
Something in from the coast maybe.
I'm scaning the skies,
Eyes turned upward
Sun on my lips
Praying
For a long overdue
Summer.

--shaun roundy