When the skies are full of sound

The tin chimneys are rattling around 
Like pebbles in buckets on a riverbank
Held by a small boy's hand
And the sky is so full of sound
That you can nearly taste the invisibly bursting seams
As the thunder rips and attempts to tear
The sky limb from orange-hued limb

The rain attempts to wrap itself around
Every minuscule exposed surface
Including the flesh I can't seem to hide 
And the wind refuses to accept a single path
Or assume a single direction
As if chaos is the end in itself

The dogs find their howls suffocated
By the crashing thunder and shaking walls
And candles flit and flicker near windows
As if the mere threat of the storm was enough
To scare them into being extinguished
And regardless...
They're too busy hiding in bathtubs to be heard
As if the rage-filled battles of the cosmos above
Are enough to encourage Earth's holocaust

It's seems so odd that a few miles beyond these clouds
Stars still find a way to shine through clear skies
And the moon can wane through it's July cycle
Just as last night when I could see a man fishing
In it's light.
And that outside this little strip of prairie
Another amazing site is taking place
Even a million sites
As if it's possible that fingertips are being discovered 
For the first time
Or love is being sparked
Or a man is laid to rest

Moments fill our lives in such unique ways
Particularly when the skies are full of sound.

- T