I am re-posting one of my poems after the short, but powerful storm that swept through this Carolina morning. Dad taught me to love storms. As the early morning clouds gathered and blackened, and thunder roared in their mass, I was reminded of the morning after Christmas, 2010. I sat in Mom’s Florida Room and listened to the wind chimes as they played through a storm like this morning’s.

Wind Chimes at Dawn

The quiet of the dawn interrupted
Early morning wind stripped leaves from limbs
Voices from the night now memories
Outside the door were hymns

Angry clouds corralled and whipped their rage about
An acquiescing sun tucked its flare
Windows bend and panels creak
Still a song is in the air

Tempest paused and took a breath
As if to ready for a blow
A quiet took its place for now
The song more quiet and slow

The air was loud at the stormy return
Things moved and tipped and fell
But still a melody unmistakable; now a chorus
Rose to meet the swell

When dark or sad or storm will come
Our windblown lives scatter here and scatter there
Through it all, if I listen well
A song is in the air