The storm’s fireworks will be nothing by midnight. So quiet, you’ll hear the worms in the soil, the ants in the rafters. For an hour or so, the world will be in the sky, flashing and pounding, pissing down like a locker-room of giants. But later, when clouds drift away, the night becomes transparent all the way to moon and stars, you can listen in to another world at work. You may even hear your lover breathing. Violence and peace, cacophony and calm, one wouldn’t mean much without the other.
About the Poet:
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review and the Round Table. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon.