Storm Bront Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Feel it coming on
in your chest, in your soul; whole
pouring over you

Can you hear it run
destruction howling louder
it's beauty, it's fear

Thunder, lightening, rain
ancient winds growing over
the quiet of your soul

A cold brew pouring
over you; can you feel it
calling your beauty

Coming over you
howling ancient storm singing
all over your soul

You, howling for me
lightning flashing in your soul
beauty growing bold