I wonder does the same storm

rage where you are?

Here clouds swirl

raging an angry turmoil

in the night darkness overhead.

The blackness sporadically broken

by blue white streaks

of jagged lightning

while rain and hail

pelts all mercilessly.

A relentless gusting

and swirling wind

wreak havoc

on the aged weeping willow

causing it to beat and bang

against the many tall windows

as if controlled by a mad conductor

with an orchestra full of howling demons.

Some won’t understand

as they cower

under their covers

why this matches

the feelings in my soul.

My bare feet

have swept

the floor clean

in a solitary dance

of agony

Now I sit in calm madness

in the dark sunroom

sip cheap champagne

and listen

to the remnants

of this magnificent opus

with its last remaining demons.

Thunder booms in the distance

and lightning flashes

illuminating the clock.

It’s quarter past twelve

on a work night

so

my rocking chair creaks

forward across the floor.

My night was over

I wonder if yours is.

The storm rages on.

© D.B. Hall

Excerpt from the book Pebbles in the Stream

$13.95 Plus Shipping ~ Avaliable at CTU Publishing Group and Amazon.com

About the Author

David Hall was born in a small town called Mount Airy (A.K.A Mayberry) nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains which are part of the large Appalachian Mountain chain. His early life involved a lot of traveling with his missionary parents, which involved stints of living in Mexico and Bolivia. His poetry reflects a love for nature and life mixed with a sense of the rustic Americana spirit and sprinkled with a lingering sense of the spiritual guidance infused by his southern religious upbringing. David has always been able to live in the moment enjoying it to the fullest while being able to be separated within himself seeking something more. Poetry is one of those outlets that gives him that something more. The diversity of genres and endless array of topics allow him to dive into poetry with reckless abandon or with fine-tuned precision; whichever is needed. Like a prism there are many sides of David, from the emotional connections when dealing with death, to the touch of the spring breeze on your neck hairs, David’s poetry can put you there.

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