The storm rages outside the house;
Within I’m toasty warm
My blankets and my pillow dry
Will keep me till the morn.
The rain beats on the window pane
The wind still blows a gale
I wonder what the trees will tell
When morning lifts the veil.
Will branches bow with whispered tales
Of battles through the night?
Or sing how they stood brave and strong
Beneath the storm's wild might?
The tempest fades to quiet sighs
As dawn begins to break,
The world outside stands bathed in light
To greet the day awake.
And though the leaves lie scattered now
Upon the sodden floor,
The ancient trunks stand tall and proud,
As steadfast as before.
Night Storm
Written during the night, awaiting the morning calm.
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