THE STORM

The storm came without warning
 And the sky devoid of colour
But for dense greyness.

Across the river
Homes blanketed in dense fog,
Just the occasional tracing of a tree line
 Emerging with the colourless sky.

As 1 watched 1 saw the birds,
Homegoing, flying East,
 Symmetrically formed in groups of twenty or so.
Seconds later another ten,
And finally two.

How lonely the sky seemed with their passing,
Then the rain came
And even the tracing of trees was no longer visible.

Suddenly it eased, and sun filtered through
Caught in a rainbow for just a second;
 And one lone bird, lost for a time in the storm
 Flew freely home,
Is that how it is with me?

            © Helen Catherine Cramer
23rd Oct. 1985.

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