Ominous clouds, dark and threatening,
Smother the horizon.

Lightning cracks and thunder claps
In the roiling, encroaching shadow.

The earliest touch of its winds,
Its furious gale, have already
Knocked her flat to the earth.

But try as it might,
It will not keep her there.

She will not let it.

She picks herself up.

She digs in her heels.

And she hardens her resolve
(Yet never her heart)
Against the coming storm.

(NOTE: I wrote this shortly after Election Day 2016.  I thought it fitting to share today, on the day of the inauguration.  Though on an entirely different note, I am once again noticing the theme of inclement weather in my poetry.  Not sure what that says about me.  I’m sure a psychiatrist could probably explain it.)


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