Storm Rider

Falling asleep on a Sunday night,
drowned in the sounds
of an incessant eighteen hour rain,
I dream of a great flood.

To wake to a morning stillness
with Venus hanging
in a deep blue velvet sky
fringed with ominous darkness.
.
As I cycle out the gate.
the immense polar presence of the storm
looms over my left shoulder,
devouring the miles between us;

its first chill, rain-filled kisses
battering the last lacey skeletons
of the year’s leaves from the trees,
snatching the breath from my lips.

Harried down the rain slick streets
by the unassailable might of Mother nature,
I am filled with a fearful ecstasy,
an unvoiced paean of victory,

As I reach my refuge
before the dreaded deluge,
arms raised in a final salute,
a real rider on the storm.