Thunder at first
See how quiet it seems.
After the thunder, what remains.
The world seems on a breath
within this silence.
What is there for me to hear.
Surrender even that too,
do you say?
Yet it seems,
something wants listening.
And that fevered night,
that flash of dark wondering.
What sound beyond
challenging recognition to me?
And I'll long remember
what you said reflecting quietly,
raindeer feet on the road beyond.
Transforming rain and home
beside.
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