Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Storm on the Lake

Beneath the high and airy ceiling of
God's vast and grand unsteepled dwelling place,
The rain, like whispering, praying supplicants,
Lifts up its pleas too private to be voiced -
Undifferentiated wash of sound
That sibilates upon the water's face.

Then deep and booming comes the preacher's voice,
The sudden, thunderous crack of judgment's storm,
That peals above the quiet congregants
Who shroud themselves in fear like helpless worms
While fearsome streaks of jagged flame appear
And call them to repentance and reform.

But hark! Now listen as the rumbling ends,
And leaves begin to rustle on the vine;
The supplicants, no longer bound by fear
With susurrating tread approach the shrine
Where love and cruelty collide, and there
Partake of mercy's bread and grace's wine.

More writing by this author

Blogs on This Site