Sonnet of the Storm

In moments' peace there is calamity.

A wind-whisked breath stolen by something great,

And true calm is the greatest rarity.

Cherish these brief times; Soon, the storm will break.

All storms demanding rev’rence are those that

Flash brightest, whose thunder shakes masonry.

When seeking quiet I find joy in the

Erratic sport, the electricity.

My thoughts fall into order as I count

The seconds between each flash, crash, echo.

The stack’d clouds compete in power, they flaunt

'Cross the sky in glitter, show’ring below.

Inner silence comes in the thunder's call,

And so I stand here, watching the rain fall.