Give it a rest thunderheads!

The surging storm sends shivers through the shingles,

emitting a cyclone capable of unheard of forces,

knocking, quite clearly, upon the front door.

It felt a bit drafty and the rafters did quake,

as if they could collapse and snap me like a twig.

Creaking floorboards, flash of lightening, drowning echoes,

mashed and muddy, the earth fears for it life,

but I find it all exciting.

Eyes open and ears alert, I drag myself away from the window

before the glass bursts, shattering shards in a haphazard collage of razors

onto the rug, a tinkling of silicon bodies and rain, mine last to drop.

The wind howls, a barrage of banshee voices fills every hollow room,

trapped as a flame under a jar, only expiring when the morning sun yawns thru.

Even the meanest of storms must rest their thunderheads every so often

or we might run out of rainy days (just joshing).

My consciousness told me to stir, awaken and thank God,

but I was too tired to care about what I could not control.

It’s over for now, clouds move, windows mend

and I’ve just used half a lifetime’s worth of adrenaline.