Black, on black and blackest night,
And then a rumbling gasp of white,
And gentle soft the pattered rain,
It calms my conscious fettered brain.
Roll on roll on thunderous drums,
With fearful crack the lightening comes,
All nature watches; rapt spellbound,
Within a silent stillness found.
Pounding, pounding rain does pour,
As heaven as opened every door,
Incessant now and falling free,
And all creation welcomes thee.
As storm recedes and we bereft,
The distant drumming all that’s left,
Occasional the rumble roll,
Return some day to ease my soul.
Peter Lowell Paulson
April 9, 2011
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