Just a reaction to a late night thunder storm ......
It's grace was tarnished by the rust of years of misuse
An eternal strength obvious to a few
Denying its frailties
Made credible by its experience
Exclaiming its presence in a cry
Or a whisper
Audible to those who choose to listen
Bending but refusing to break
Splintering but not snapping
The rain called the other night
Leaving a message of its presence
These things are always present but often missed in an eyes blink
Delaying its restoration for a moment in time
And when they return again, announcing their arrival
Lets hope that we're listening
At the roar of the storm
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