After the Storm

After the storm, there may be found many things
Bits of wet newspaper torn like broken birds
Tree limbs bent down and scattered
Or simply the cleansing of the air
And the spread of new colors in the sky

The river may flow the same direction,
Or it may have cut itself a new path.
No one can say for sure

For now all there is
Is to watch the clouds gather,
A prayer of trust in the heart,
And to read the map the electricity leaves in the night sky
For signs of where to go

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