Storm Clouds

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

I’ve been watching these big black clouds

roll in and roll by.

“Storms coming,” they say.

The common gray treefrogs concur,

trilling their liquid welcome

to the opulent gods of thunder and lightening.

A tall pine might singe and smolder,

but in the largest puddle there will be amplexus

and whatever ecstasy frogs know.

Ancient ceremonies linger all around us

keeping the Earth turning on her axis.

The choreography takes you

into consideration.

Why don’t you dance?

*

Yesterday the cold spring rains pouring

off the front lip

of Thor’s double-headed hammer

caught me on the crest

of Lydia Mountain.

We walked miles together,

each asking questions of the other:

“Can I trust your touch against my skin?”

"Yes," I replied.

© 2011-2017/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved 
in Everyday Life; www.hiraethpress.com

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