slipstream

a shower fell today under thunder, under wrath
straight down it fell, pushing air with it, forcing the ground

the roofs are black now, wet, and the ragged edge of cloud lifts
cool drifts visit me, and the trees are still, with heavy leaves

the storm has passed now and my heart is quieter
it beat fast, and heavy, the lightning searing like memory

and on the bridge, where a few sodden leaves have washed up
against the parapet, I lean on wet stone, watch the river turn

it flows quickly, charged with weight, pressed towards its end
it flows out behind me, taking the present away

and as I lift my eyes and watch it get smaller - grey distant thread -
I know all things are gone with it, under a churning surface

that reflects nothing of the sky - turning upstream, now, crossing
the slippery cobbles, the water races towards me, I lean

and watch it come - up above, sky clearing, there is breath from
the mountains, memory of snow, and the light lies slant on the land

gold edging through to gild the black and grey: that way lies hope
of all to come, of all that might be, the unlived moment, the unhurt

heart, intaken breath of fresh winds filling the lungs and the trees
begin to sway, spraying their water drops to the ground, lightening

the load - I know gratitude: for all that is, for all that's been, for all
yet to come - the clean stream rushing towards me, eager for a home