“Storm Front” by Ross Polen

Could it be that
Bursting and angry chaos
Born the cosmos-
Precipitating the human cell
From dark fronts
Of fire and water?

Is this subconsciously considered
As the ominous swirls
Of meshing reds and yellows
Burst across the television screen-
A live radar report upsetting a warm
Living room scene?

The forecaster's voice is mumbled by the bursting rumble
And causes a quiet rise from the couch
And a procession, pushing not to safety
But to the door that is gently begging
To be burst open.

Just to visit for a moment the source
Of all the audible restlessness, standing just outside
The reach of the rain, a weather vane,
I am struck by the sky's flash.

I am precipitated, born
And baptized before the storm.