Huge clouds like thugs
bruised the sky (already red and
raw at the seams), smothered all the stars.
Rain marched up through
the parking lot till the front ranks
hit the church, cracking loud and hard.
From the roof we watched as
light burned vivid and curled electric,
transient, like a glimpse of
some seraph's wild hair.
some seraph's wild hair.
The hot wind stuttered and
someone was calling glory, glory,
enough to fill the pulsing earth
with thunder.
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