about the storm

What is it,
about the Storm?

Leaves me giddy,
unmade,
by laughter
wild,
bubbling up through some sheltered defile.

Winds that threaten to unshore my feet from ground
handless tossed, twirling rag-doll, to kite the clouds.

We are not in Kansas any more.

Monsoons sheeting,
so dense I can hardly breathe.
And the space,
between,
heaven and earth compressed
so close, so near
I can almost

feel.

Towards peace,
infinite, peace I lean, yet;
What it is about the Storm, leaves me

so,
filled,

with laughter.