She is a storm, full of power and determination.
At times scattered and frightening when
the lightning nearly strikes the ground on which
you stand.
Then when she weeps,
all things are is a gloom,
hidden by the thick mist in the
air.
The way she rumbles and crashes
about, pouring the troubles that
have become too heavy to carry alone
to the ground, where you are
standing.
Your umbrella is beaten and blown
inside out, yet you hang on tight.
The storm can't rage infinitely.
It may take a few hours or days,
but the sun will shine through
the heavy gray clouds eventually.