All the While the Storms

We sat in circles under the tin roof of the old man’s cottage
Playing games and laughing well after the setting of the sun
The wooden tables and chairs creaked
Under the weight of our merriment
The candles flickered
From our breath like wind from a torn balloon
There was not a head in the house
Which was not thick with at least a thousand thoughts
Not a tongue in their mouths
That did not anxiously await
An opportunity to dance
To spin and weave amongst the words and wispy wisdom
That so eloquently flowed from every corner of our minds.

We were as one;
Our hearts, they pumped in unison
We breathed as a hive of locusts
And our eyes scanned not for reassurance
Or for eyes downcast
As we knew all the names
And faces
So well.

But all the while the storms
Were gathering above
The clouds like cavalry called from all corners of a kingdom unknown
And winds like weapons swept through the hills
Drawing ever near on currents captured
The grass and weeds pressed firmly to the ground
Under the great weight of the gale in motion

And like a guest in posthaste fashion
Did the gust announce itself
Sweeping through the gathered groups
Carried forward to the furthest reaches of the room
Before the door could be closed
And the latches locked.

Silence poured across our mouths
And smothered each conversation as flies in amber
As we stared
Our mouths agape.

Even the old man sat still
And watched
Waited
And all the while the storms
Were gathering above.