On the Day of the Storm

The wind tore the sky into green.
The water frothed, but the air clean.

We lost ourselves, ran from our cars.
I stopped to awe, the moon and the stars,

and a black ridge of cloud menacing,
Satan's foothold, all things effacing.

But then I saw you, storm shorn, clothing torn,
like no one I've seen in action before.

Not Raquel Welch in some hot thrilling movie,
with nicely fashioned rips hiding her tootie.

No, you were the real thing, mud, cut, bloody and bruised,
and I ran fast to join you, no thought I could lose.

And the storm dissolved there, our foci wide opened.
A god playing hop scotch with us, his love tokens.