Storm passing

The snow has not moved - my
garden is a white world, it
glitters in the sun.  The large
pond in the far field is frozen:
I see its flat grey face.  My
feet are cold this morning, the
windows exhale a chill.

When I opened my eyes
I could feel, inside, I was better.
The terrible dark storm, the tsunami
wave has come and gone.  All
the terrain is devastated, but
the rubble is still, and the sea
is calm.

Nothing moves outside except
the slow course of the mottled sky -
in here I breathe easy -
a good day ahead, one of
light, air, and ease, one of
golden sun now the storm has gone,
I hear the angel's wings as he
flies home.

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