When the Storm Comes (poem) by Phyllis Jean Green on AuthorsDen

When the Storm Comes
by Phyllis Jean Green → (All Poetry by Phyllis Jean Green)
Rated "G" by the Author.

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P e a c e a n d L o v e ///////////////////////////////<3

When the Storm Comes Small animals allow themselves to curl in hollows and caves, in the crevices in and between rocks. In unusurped habitats, dens they readied throw out welcome mats, and they slip inside to roll in warm reminders in form of sacrificed skin and fur layered to cushion their--and their--tomorrows from gifts they received in the past. Let the rain thunder. Let the wind shriek and hurl. Snow drifts, snow drifts. Ice holds the secret of spring in place. If hard, lets go in time. Now is for the leaven of sleep. One dreams while one keeps watch.. Senses sharpen, rather than dull. Scent carries best over flat and quiet. Eyes unblur as the Lethe ladles sun, food, and water and the balletic pirouettes of returning leaves. Small animals allow themselves to curl. (c) Phyllis Jean Green, September, 2004 All Rights Reserved

Reviewed by Tyrone Banks (Reader)

Reviewed on January 9, 2006

So small and so wise! Maybe if humans hibernated for more than 8 hours a night we'd all be in a better frame of mind...

Thanks for the read and God bless you and yours,

Tyrone

Reviewed by Regis Auffray

Reviewed on October 2, 2004

Delightful verses, Phyllis. Thank you for sharing this lovely offering. Love and peace. Regis

Reviewed by Kate Clifford (Reader)

Reviewed on September 29, 2004

Wonderful write with great descriptions!

Reviewed by Dawn Richerson

love this nature write

Reviewed by Carmen Ruggero

Reviewed on September 28, 2004

Much to be learned from the furry ones. Nature is wise, and we should be wise to listen. Great poem, Phyllis.

Carmen :-)

Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner

(((pea)))

AWWWWWWWWWWW this is precious! that pic :)

you know what i miss? woolly bears. they are a type of catapillar (spelling?) with black and brown banding in northern states...depending on the width of the banding, that determined what kind of winter you were "supposed" to have...they weren't always reliable, but i remember in 1977, they were nearly totally black with brown only at head and tail...in 1978, we had the blizzard...we called it a "white hurricane"...i'll never forget it

(((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)

Reviewed by Andre Bendavi Benyehu (Reader)

This poem, "When the Storm Comes" flows under the sound of Mother Nature, and delivers a beautiful message. It is an enjoyable and inspiring piece of poetic excellence.

I salute You, Sublime Poet!

Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU

Reviewed by Ed Matlack

Beautiful picture you have drawn here for all to see, Phyllis...Peace thru the Write, Ed & Rufuz

Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado

Delightful! LOL at the pic; too cute! LOL

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D