Jo Mcgrath Poet Rhyme

Not My Storm

Not my storm


What a storm that was, raging, so electric and bright,
The crash of the thunder split day from the night,
The drama unfolding, an inch from my head,
As I lay there and watched from the warmth of my bed.
And as sleep took me again into dreams,
The roll of the thunder still cracked the sky's seams,
In the distance it rumbled and bumped the horizon,
While the flashes of colours switched the days lights on.
How nice for a change, that storm wasn't mine,
As it drifted away and I laid there and smiled

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James Long July 14, 2020 at 7:00 AM "There is a mighty bridge, that stretches from shore to shore rising up over the quiet lands, of our hate, of our love, rising up over the muddy waters of our indifference. This bridge is the mighty bridge of the acceptance, of our Creator, of ourselves, of all life for just how this is, and can all be, with all of us working together ever-diligently with our Creator, with all life consistently, continuously, and ever-patiently. Our Mighty, Ever-Generous Creator will meet, and greet us, there!"