The Storm

Fitful laughter echoes from the cove
As the storm pounds on the rocks.
It's incessant roars fill my ears,
Each wave a burst of mocking voices.

The midnight air is filled with shadows
As fierce as vengeful spirits.
I cower in my darkened home
Shut my senses against the torment without.

The cutting wind swirls through the trees,
Bare and broken from their battering.
The tireless rain beats down, then suddenly relents
As if from a signal from the coming daylight.

The hoarse roar lets up, quiets.
Loosens its savage grip on the land.
We stand up warily; the storm has gone
But the earth remains watchful.