Window Shaking Thunder

 Awake, now I listen,

     window shaking thunder,

        hard rain turned gentle

          then the sudden silence.

           Listening, not sleeping,

             aroused to what might be,

in darkness now I wait.  

 

The boy I used to be

   heard the nighttime voices.

     Unlike the ones tonight

        that said, "spirit listen,"

          then I covered my head

            lest I become one found 

by one from whom I hid. 

 

The awakening Spirit,

   who thunders in the night

     who bathes with gentle rain

         stirs slumber to be heard,

           but not by just anyone

            for some dismiss the holy

as nighttime settling sounds.