Monday, February 26, 2024

After each storm

During the storm, the wildness, gray; 
The surging waves, the urgency 
Of branches, tossing in the wind; 
And now — always — the morning after follows: 
Long shadows, rest, and golden light, 
 Its color like a promise: 
Whatever darkness comes, this, too, shall pass.

1 comment:

Luis Serrano said...

Todo pasa, no hay nada que lo detenga, nada tiene fin. Algo sucederá después de cada instante