You can't have a storm offhand
like somebody took a notion and
decided a storm would be right
handy to come off now and here.
The moan and lash of the winds
came out of a place nice for
them, nice for their growing.
The anger of the waters lay
breeding, spawning, pent up
and ready to go.
The blaze of the
prongs,
the zigzag of
forked fire,
they had a long
seed-time
in a womb of
unborn flame
before they went
to town
and came
howling, "You don't
know what goes
on here but
we'll tell you."
This storm now didn't come out of nowhere
--it had a starting place, a home and a womb
--far back it began, brother, sister,
--far back, sweetheart.