Thank God for the Sun
Storms seem less scary in the daytime
Blue skies overcome by shades of gray
Raindrops dance gaily on the pavement
High winds toss the branches overhead
Thunder rumbles low in the distance
Then soon enough the song is over
Birds appear to rescue drowning worms
Ominous clouds drift away from sight
Sun reminds us that he never left
Blue skies overcome by shades of gray
may remind us of another day
some one hundred fifty years ago
when these same colors mingled with red
For a while the blue and gray compete
as if reliving a history
that cannot die, although many did
Raindrops fly like little leaden shells
forcing those with sense to take retreat
Raindrops dance gaily on the pavement
as thoughts of troubled wartime give way
to happier times of mirth and play
See the splish-splashing as the puddles
form everywhere that the eye can see
and remember when two little feet
jumped in to make the splashes taller
Hear the squeals of delight once again
Relive his youth—and maybe yours too
High winds toss the branches overhead
How lovely the gray against the green
of towering trees, their boughs swaying
to the thunderous music of the storm
Gray and green, green and gray—oh, the peace
these two colors in concert express
Grim and gay: joy and sadness mingle
Two opposites working together
to compose a perfect harmony
Thunder rumbles low in the distance
One more grown-up tells another child
that it’s God and the angels bowling
and so the myth lives on for one more
generation, and one more child learns
that he need not fear the raging storm
so long as he listens to the game
from a place of safety, for respect
for nature’s force is a healthy thing
Then soon enough the song is over
dance done, and the angels’ bowling balls
are put away until the next time
The puddles run like little rivers
seeking their own level, lying down
to rest in the soft grass, and sinking
seeping down far below the surface
to wait their every-day miracle
of transpiration—resurrection
Birds appear to rescue drowning worms
who, helpless, lie scattered here and there
confused and lost, unable to find
their way back into their earthy home
And just like that, their occupation
changes: digester to digested
Done with all their labor in the soil
they rise to a new and higher call
to give a fledgling a healthy snack
Ominous clouds drift away from sight
For a while the battle went to gray
but now the gray retreats: blue returns
and shines victorious in his glory
Sometimes too we are blessed with a bow
There all colors congregate to show
that everlasting sign of promise
that all green will no more be engulfed
to lie down in a watery grave
Sun reminds us that he never left
He was there all the time, though unseen
shining upon both evil and good
He takes his turns with the east and west
Unlike his Maker, he cannot be
everywhere at all times. So sometimes
we have to face the storms in the dark
I thank my God for the sun, because
storms are less scary in the daytime
Copyright © 2021 Abigail Gronway – All Rights Reserved
Welcome to my series, Incremental Poetry, where each week the featured poem will be one line longer than the one I share the week before. I have no idea how long I’ll keep this up, so we’ll just have to wait and see. Thank you for stopping by.
Scansion:
Lilibonelle
Each line in Stanza 1 (except Line 1) is repeated as the first line of the succeeding stanzas.
Must have a minimum four stanzas of four lines each
May conclude with an additional repeating line
Five stanzas need five lines each, six stanzas @ six lines each, etc.
Theme must be introspective or reflective
Rhythm optional but encouraged
Rhyme optional but encouraged
Rhyme scheme: ABCD Bxxx Cxxx Dxxx, where capital letters indicate repeated lines and x represents any rhyme (or none)
Total length: varies, minimum 16 lines
Dark Side of the Moon 