Forgotten Ground Regained
Thunderbird
The thunderstorm streams in a rain bombInto the reeds and clear islets,Washing from waters to waters again. You will think that it fell thunderousFrom a cumulonimbus. But the nimbus of sunHas limned each tree with liquid goldenHour again. So great was the rain, Where else could it emerge? Maybe you’ll focus On the wings of the heron who took weatherWith him into the air. I would have missedThe storm wall in the wings of the fowlHad he neglected to turn, glistening bank,Gracing the waters with waters again. I refuse to believe that future rainstormsHappen any other way.
Copyright © Lancelot Schaubert, 2026
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