The thunder place

We’re having fabulous thunderstorms here; our new rain barrel filled up with just two cloud-bursts, and now we’re wishing we’d set up more barrels.   

The air has cooled considerably, giving us much-appreciated relief from the past few days of high temperatures and high humidity. Best of all, we are meditating to the soothing rush of rain on the chapel roof. 


Walk me to the thunder place,
where lightning spears my belly to the ground
and I am deaf to all but
the song of God’s silence.

Walk me through cloud-mountains,
where vagrant shafts of sun
ignore those huge gray fists and
laugh their darkness to a lie;

walk me into curtains of rain,
where I catch a hailstone
the size of a honeydew
and make of it a gift to the wild wind.

Walk me into the sky,
and then let me go
free and joyful
into a starry night.
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