Washed Out

Warning touch and growing rumble
Feel it building coming coming

Welcome respite or call for shelter?
Jarring one from settled niche

These drops intruders in our day
… A sigh a chuckle as we retreat?

What do they say of grief or toil
As waters surge and tumble by?

Pale countenance sinking down
Or head uplifted to cool embrace?

Built up dirt and grime release
Muddy churning wash away!

Letting it go, now light and free
Cleansing. Revealing… sparkling stones

Charlotte-Anne Allen

Storm’s Call

storm rain distance_IMG_4619

Rustle of leaves
on a scorching day
The sun blinks its eyes
as shadows slip in

Chirping birds
Now grow silent
As earth holds its breath
And heated air stirs

The rumble of a passing truck
Grows and speaks to
Dark clouds advancing building
Carried on silent streams

A dog’s sharp bark
Shatters the sudden stillness
And the cat races to shelter
As searing light pierces the sky

Storm’s call sounds
Make way Make way
Wind’s breath blows cool
As full drops descend

Pounding now upon thirsty ground
Washing cleansing making new
Wafting lifting petrichor’s rich smell
… Rain’s offering to lifted noses

Streams of water flowing
Warm toes cooling
Hot faces relieving
Churning clouds slowly recede

Storm’s call beckons
Lifts its arm in final salute
And rolls slowly on
As mist begins to rise