Poems From Providence - The Poet's Press

2
The boy felt the tense of lightning poise.
His reddish hair stood on the nape of his neck,
his ivory skin, his eye-whites luminous.
He froze when the cloud unveiled itself —
A terrible eye regarded him
from the black moil of suspended rain —
a place of cerulean blue, windless and calm,
the all-perceiving eye of the son of Cronus.
In one rock-rending thunderclap
the heavens shattered.
The bowl of sky-clouds spiraled in,
the self-annihilating storm
consumed itself —