rumble in the distant skies,
echoing off the spaces,
the window pane knocked with light,
that frequently flashes,
nature at its mighty best,
smiling at the shore,
my singing friend has already left his nest,
to find a better home,
i searched the wooden cupboard,
to find the bottle of wine,
filled my cup with the '120 year old',
made before my father's time,
from my window,i looked at the sea,
sitting on the chair,so calm,
as calm as it would be,
at the center of the storm.
