Tempestuous and tempered, raging
among the heavens but eager to descend,
the endless wrath of another storm
hurries us into the shadows.
Hidden from the blustering call while
a squall stumbling for purpose blots out light
with each blast, blindly seeking
a companion, we huddle, hopeful
the humidity will swim away as
we continue to perspire, hesitant
to head out into the gale, uncertain,
but wet one way or another.
(c) 2019 Phillip Knight Scott
Written for the Tuesday Writing Prompt over at Go Dog Go Cafe. The words today are “endless” and “shadows.”