Today's poem is by Melanie McCabe

Early Storm
       

Before noon, the sky darkens into augury;
leaves kowtow, meek before a zealot wind.

Morning, still beating, is swallowed
mouse-whole down a snake, but I am not afraid.

I have seen it all before: a gale, biblical as wrath;
the ticking of a pulse turned inside-out,

muffled by the rumble of God or not-God. Palms
are open to interpretation. So hard to hold a fist,

much less shake one, when the clouds press down.
The lungs take ozone as their lot, and when rain falls,

it pelts as fiercely as a plague or a blessing. I will name it
either — and know that neither will come without end.

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Copyright © 2024 Melanie McCabe All rights reserved
from Sugar House Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission