unremarkable;
but they hold at bay
the water and the wind,
and make sounding boards
for our songs.
Lightning flashes outside,
but the four walls reverberate,
not with rolling thunder,
not with water and wind,
but with the music of song,
of our songs.
Later, we singers will exit
into the water and the wind,
into the music of light and rain;
but those walls will still tingle
with the weather of our making,
with our songs.
© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen
