the house shook
the rain battering the roof
a chorus of pebbles on the shingles
the windows bowing in and out
as my reflection grows and shrinks
grows and shrinks
the wind finds instruments in the
crevices of the house
maracas in the bathroom fan
a low mournful note over the exhaust pipe
soft hissing through the window screen
the song of the storm isn't scary
its notes and rhythm guide me to sleep
held in the arms of something more powerful
stronger than I can know or comprehend
held in the presence
buoyed by the Spirit
small.
tiny.
beloved.
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