Awake through the storm,
I saw dark clouds
and listened to wet disturbance,
watched as gossamer billows dumped water on the hills,
felt cold that looked like snow.
I witnessed the sad burden of the grey,
the struggle of no visible dawn.
Startled by the hole,
the southern break,
a flash of sun and blue,
I watched the emptied white,
the fluffy scrub that wiped towards the north.
Cupped in two dark hands,
the vista is caressed,
bright radiance contained
in stormy contours.