Grounded

High winds and bright sparks,
White flashes blowing rain,
Thunderstruck starts,
Some ruin in pain.

Others bury true,
Mired in the mud,
Those grounded few,
Enjoying the deafening thud.

Ricochet off the bedroom walls,
Balanced between static and rush,
Intensely the soul of nature calls,
With in them the rock of such...............

FTBAS 6.21.13