Rock This House
Jared Walnum
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The Storm
   by Jared Walnum

It came
not with a whimper like a wounded poodle
but with the deep and mighty growl of some primitive mighty thing.

It billowed and swirled like smoke,
like a hundred gray flexing muscles,
hard as rock but soft as a petal all at the same time.

Every time the sky short circuited,
It spit a million volts at an increasingly timid planet.
Bodies bent in useless defense dashed recklessly looking for some kind of shelter.

Such a voice demands respect.
You could disbelieve the thunder
but that would not prevent the lightning's fiery nip.

You could scoff at the wind
but it would still carry away the thousand leaves
that fly like enchanted birds on its magic.

I thought it not presumptuous to believe I was hearing God's voice.
In the next baritone howling of the sky
I swear I heard him say,

"Did you hear me whispering to you?"