The Storm

I Ran to the forest for shelter,

Breathless, half sobbing;

I put my arms round a tree,

Pillowed my head against the rough bark.

"Protect me," I said.  "I am a lost child."

But the tree showered silver drops on my face and hair.

A wind sprang up from the ends of the earth;

It lashed the forest together.

A huge green wave thundered and burst over my head.

I prayed, implored, "Please take care of me!"

But the wind pulled at my cloak and the rain beat upon

          me.

Little rivers tore up the ground and swamped the bushes.

A frenzy possessed the earth: I felt that the earth was

          drowning

In a bubbling cavern of space.  I alone—

Smaller than the smallest fly—was alive and terrified.

    Then for what reason I know not, I became trium-

          phant

"Well, kill me!" I cried and ran out into the open.

But the storm ceased: the sun spread his wings

And floated serene in the silver pool of the sky.

I put my hands over my face: I was blushing.

And the trees swung together and delicately laughed.