The Coming Storm
December 9, 2007 by Shirley Allard
A storm approaches and quietly grows
Branches collapse under falling snows
The tree, long stripped of fragile leaves
Its vulnerable trunk and extremities
Exposed to new depths by a chilling freeze.
A storm of winter ecstasy
Drifts downward to the waiting tree
Ebbing and flowing through the night
Til darkness succumbs to morning light.
Melting in warmth, spent storms will retire
In gardens of sunshine; at one with the fire.


I love the flow of this poem. An entire season comes and goes with the subtleness of a wispy metaphor, leaving hope in its wake and rebirth as its surety. Just beautiful…
I agree with Bob! The flow is wonderful and there is are gentle tugs as the storm progresses. Your best, I think.
Thanks guys!
Shirely -
I really liked this one too…
I hope you don’t mind, but I also reposted one of your poems from a while back on my blog… this one:
Quantitative Inheritance
Jul 4th, 2007 by Shirley Allard
I meant to a long time ago, and it was still in my drafts… I re-read the poem and was just as moved… so, I posted it to share and remember.
`smj
Thank you Sam…be my guest!