The storm

Summer still before the storm;

summer strong and boldly hot,

giving all its got before the rain comes

to shade its white hot burning face

and conjure up some wet and soaking

terror of its own; and we the masters

of our fate who say that we control the earth

then wonder what will come and

haunt us next, for we are nothing in

the face of nature’s turbulence manifest,

we are nothing but the pacing ants who

find our homes and dig our nests and

wait in the still pause before the storm.