{"sf1_id":216714,"sf2_id":"rn64gD7e","title":"Little Wings of the Storm","author":"Sneeze","words":743,"posted_at":"2011-01-26T05:30:00.000Z","tags":["Bells","Birds","Music","Poetry","Thunder","colors","interpretive","leaves","lightning","storm"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/216714-little-wings-of-the-storm","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/rn64gD7e","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/7f/14/7f14b872-69a1-4ebb-b667-de77d8a7b241","description":"#4 of Poetry","content":"\u0026nbsp;\n\nForeword: \u0026nbsp;\n\nA terrible storm may rattle windows, blow leaves, and streak with lightning, but can be memorable for different reasons. \u0026nbsp;\n\nAnother poem out of me! \u0026nbsp;This is another free verse work; I avoided a specific meter and other schemes to try and capture and represent a song, a certain song that I may or may not have written about in the past . . . \\\u003ccough cough\\\u003e have you listened to it yet? \\\u003ccough cough\\\u003e \u0026nbsp;In the end, though, I don't really think this piece is a success. \u0026nbsp;I like it, but on personal review, I just don't think I did a very good job. \u0026nbsp;Meh, not bad enough not to share; I want to improve, don't I? \u0026nbsp;\n\nAnyway, if you have something to say about my work, go ahead and tell me! \u0026nbsp;Drop a comment, shoot a message, come to my house and tell me face-to-face, all perfectly acceptable (though I'd prefer you'd call before you came to my house)! \u0026nbsp;I appreciate comments and criticism, I really want to know what you think, and I use comments and such to improve my writing. \u0026nbsp;Once again, I'd like to thank several friends and of course Mr. Eupherious for looking over my work and making sure it didn't suck too terribly. \u0026nbsp;\n\nEnjoy the poem! \u0026nbsp;\n\nContent copyright Sneeze 2010. \u0026nbsp;Please don't use without permission. \u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n_Little Wings of the Storm_\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nI sat in my room one autumn twilight -\n\nattempting to do some work -\n\nwhen a great storm blew in, the greatest I've ever heard.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThis cyclone's power completely threw me;\n\nwhenever I recollect the winds\n\nand the lightning and the rumbling thunder,\n\nit returns me, in my mind.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe winds start off light and unremarkable enough,\n\nbut the way the autumn leaves dance,\n\nreds and greens and golds and blues,\n\ncarried by unseen hands, guided\n\nup and down, circling in great spirals and shallow twirls\n\ncolors changing, shifting supremacy\n\nbut never fighting\n\nthose unseen hands moving the leaves out of love, not fury,\n\nplucked around on the strings of a giant's guitar.\u0026nbsp;\n\nI can see deep purple thunderheads off in the distance,\n\na backdrop for dancers such as the leaves\n\nas the gusty winds tilt the church bells in the church tower.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nLightning streaks through the deep purple and\n\nthunder rumbles out, boom after boom striking my chest\n\nplucking my heartstrings with their resonance, low and pure.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe winds begin to gust\n\nthe dancing leaves moving in currents and streams, subtlety lost in flashes\n\nof rustling color\n\nas the church bells sound out\n\nsilver percussions echoing through\n\nthe low howl of wind and boom of thunder.\u0026nbsp;\n\nTwo birds fly from the church tower\n\ntaking up the delicacy the leaves have lost,\n\nfeathered spirals and loops recognized by all men\n\ninstead of the blind man's dancing colored leaves\n\nand the invisible musician who crafts their dance.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nLightning flashes and cracks as the thunderheads consume\n\nmy little room in their fury,\n\nthe thunder the drumbeats of a god and\n\nthe colored leaves a blur of redgreengoldblue in the wind's\n\nhowling resonant shrillness,\n\nso swift and strong the church bells call out their\n\nsilver sweet strikes above it all.\u0026nbsp;\n\nRain falls, adding to the cacophony, the climatic assault of terrifying fervor\n\nAnd it is terrifying -\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; the thunder's boom rattling my heart\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; the crack of the lightning shearing my joints\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;the wind howling through my ears, piercing my thoughts through to my consciousness -\n\nBut I am not afraid of the scare in the scene, I cannot see it\n\nfor the church bells ring out, loud, clear, silver above it all,\n\nand the birds swirl and play in the sky,\n\nLittle Wings beating resolute with ease and freedom in the gust and violence\n\nperfectly at home flying\u0026nbsp; with the other\n\nand I can hear them singing,\n\nnot adding their voices to the storm's opera, no\n\ntheir little throats too small to penetrate the sheet of sound that is the storm,\n\nthey are part of the orchestra itself\n\nthe love in their dance not a symbol of perseverance but\n\na gesture of what truly lies beneath it all.\u0026nbsp;\n\nI close my eyes, listening to the great work of a divine artist, the\n\nwind and thunder\n\nand birds\n\nand those pure, silver bells.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nAnd the more I recollect the storm, the more I think\n\nof You. \u0026nbsp;\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/216709-the-wanderer.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/216715-moving-on.json"}}