Its 3:23am
And I'm standing with my nose flattened against the cold window
Watching lightening flash in the dark of the night
Shedding light in the blind corners out of sight
Thunder roars demanding to be felt
As souls rest in the care of God
The weather teaches me how to write
About the healing dark
With the wind that passes through your street to mine
In this small world
I'm a clay figure beneath the stars tonight
With a poets mind that resists losing conscience
I'm convinced it's the weather that made poets