The earth is shifting, the skies are swirling with devastating energy, and the seas are mounting. The last few days, and as I write, storms are landing in the Eastern States and Canada, and here in BC we just had a large earth tremor. Thankfully no major damage nor injury. It seems like a good moment to boldly post a poem that has been sitting in my desk drawer for years. Shall I? I shall.

The Hidden Tempest

The sea sighed as

sailboats quietly played on her back.

A gentle game.

One of tolerance.

Her depths smirked at the efforts

to keep these toys moving about.

Trivial behavior!

 An irritation to the sea.

Their sails did nothing to inspire her.

She heaved a second sigh.

And another one.

She started to rock.

The movements awakened

a quiet yearning.

She began to roll.

 Distressed sails

hastily sought a safer bath.

But the sea wouldn’t wait.

She had had enough.

She had been subdued for too long

and shook her tides loose,

her primal song

arousing her hidden tempest.

She roared, kicked up her waves,

caressed the sky,

inviting it to dance.

(who could refuse the sea’s wild charms?)

They tangoed, teased, until

clouds intertwined their arms of wet,

the horizon no longer:

Waves snapped, sounds exploded, tornadoes whipped, currents got lost,

white, blue, grey mountains formed and died in a blink of an eye,

fish and birds frolicked in frenzied unions.

Suddenly

a pocket

of air

bullied

 in,

separating

the

bond.

The sea satisfied with her powerful play,

 pulled back her tendrils of storm

only to witness,

scattered sails who could not survive

her turbulent thirst.