She’s the peaceful drop in anonymous rain.
Also, she’s the flood that terraforms terrain.
She’s the thunder keening grief for trials & strife…
Too, she’s its shaken ground, germinating life.
A fool for laughs, gold & color brightening.
Her slab of gray days shot thru with lightening.
In these flashes & cracks; there’s nowt she’s not felt.
Nestled inside these brilliant bolts, she has dwelt.
Between many souls & danger, she has stood.
She’s a bitch of a witch & all know she’s good.
For: E
L.B.Stowe 