All Poetry

Storm.

 

A yearning
as sirens of
autumn’s breath
whisper words
of anticipation.
A rhythmic contralto
an echo to the soul
a welcomed unrest
as the valley chants 
its familiar tune.

Mesmerized
is she as gleams
of heaven incensed
unveil a sight divine.
A prelude
as skies yield to
nature’s command–
a foretaste of the
promised cleansing
of her deliverance.


34 replies »

  1. Dear Dr. Phoebe,
    Your line, “an echo to the soul,” is such a beautiful concept. It is a gentle reminder that God does not always speak directly to our soul. Rather, God uses “the echo” of his voice, in the echo of a friend or loved one. Beautiful poem.
    Sincerely,
    Richard

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