Calm in Calamity

Green sky flashes

with electric light,

breaking the monotony

of blackness and quiet.

A leviathan rises from the sea,

announcing its arrival by the tortured moan

of a howling wind.

It screams and the sound is an interruption.

The communal consciousness of rain

prepares to pelt the panes,

but ends as quiet whispers on the sill, instead.

Nature roars, and raps, and wrecks

in displays of dominance

and the world bends the knee

while Armageddon —

in stature and by name, —

attempts a B and E.

But no amount of huffing and puffing

will ever break our bricks,

and the only smoke we ever blow

will billow through the chimney.

The hearth is hot, like you,

as you read beside the fire

I’ve always had a thing for nerds

in quiet contemplation,

and the force in the storm, for me,

all that matters,

is your ability to be

the calm in the calamity.