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I sheltered by a rock to hear the roar
of curling surf
and taste the salt
of spindrift snatching at the gulls before
a storm.

Suspicious clouds rampaged in place and stayed
too close against
restraining hills,
while hesitancy thrummed as doom delayed
a storm.

I hurried to my house where I could lie
secure and warm
behind tall walls
I've raised through times I've learned I must defy
a storm.

Then when the gale was loosed to rip through space
that all the world
had huddled in
I watched each moving thing attempt to race
a storm.

I could retire to watch the chaos there—
embrace the force,
expand and grow.
It made me part of majesty to share
a storm.

For other hurricanes which whirl about
my troubled mind—
not weather's might—
I've little shelter nor a plan to rout
a storm.



© 2004 Rod Clark

Third Place Award to Rod Clark from the National Writer's Association, 2004 NWA Poetry Contest (June 11, 2005)

Above image: Seaflower