by Lisa Barker
Ten months of clear skies
and steady, warm sun.
Lightning strikes suddenly, unexpectedly.
Thunder recalls previous storms.
A summer storm? A clearing of air?
Or the revelation of a storm that has
Duck and cover.
Remember the plan, the proof of who I Am.
The storm may come; I will stand tall.
Lightning may break my boughs; I will grow new limbs.
An oak tall and strong.
Reaching into the sky, stretching beyond.
Thunder echoes my soul’s song.
I am, I will.