the bird in the storm

I want to sleep, but there’s an insomniac in me

She whispers in my ear relentlessly

So, instead, I watch the sky from my balcony

And ponder about how rain can be so cunning

The lightning threatens to strike the earth

While clouds above are giving birth

And the thunder resonates, leaving the ground trembling

The pauses in between are nothing but dissembling

And in spite all of this, a lone bird still flies

In watching this bird it is when I realize

That I can be just like the bird soaring through the storm fearlessly

I can be just like the bird not taking the storm’s threats too seriously

So I step up to the ledge, spread my wings, and I prepare

Then I take the plunge into free fall with hope and  a prayer

But I am not a bird, and I have no wings to fly

So, instead, I’m plummeting from on high

And then I wane rather gently, into a heap of soft feathers

Just the bird and I lay here on this mound together

It’s when I roll over in my bed that I realize I’d been asleep

And when I think of the bird in the storm I can’t help but weep

Outside my window the steady pitter patter is interrupted by a tapping

Without even looking, I know the bird is there with me, wings still flapping


© Chelsie Cummings 2016

Featured photo find on Flickr.





One thought on “the bird in the storm

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