Poem- Metallic Rapture

I’m sitting outside listening to the approaching thunderstorm
The leaves on the trees are completely still
Even individual blades of grass seem to be stuck in time
There is no wind and the air is full of humidity
The vehicles driving by know nothing of this
I’m not in existence, just like the unmoving leaves-
As they drive, they create their own moving world-
Eventually the vehicles pass and again there is no sound
Other than the storm
Now the wind is picking up
The leaves are turning
The grass is moving like a sea full of life
The sky is darkening
Lit up only by a flashes of lightning
Birds are rapidly chirping before settling
Tops of trees are bending at the will of the storm
Claps of thunder are becoming mountains
rolling and booming for miles. Some clashing so loudly,
after crackling strikes of lightening, that I am forced
to stand inside the doorframe
with the realization that the storm is indeed alive.
More so than any moving vehicle
with its created world sitting in ones matillic rapture.

-M. Taggart