Storm, 1987, acrylic on canvas, 16 x 20 in.

Storm Dog and I storm ready: plugs pulled, windows cracked against plummeting pressure. Wind screams and moans under blackening clouds charged with jagged light and growing tumult. Pulse sounds an alarm countered by force of reason: even a storm has a rhythm of advance and recede. Surrender to the one is eased by certainty of the other. KA-BAM!! Already gone, the instant when we might have died, when light and sound converge with hiss and pop. Missed by a yard or two. "Over now," I tell my trembling friend. KA-BAM!! Again!? Voice shaky in the crackling air, I joke that we are still alive and-- KA-BAM!! Folk wisdom is in disarray, reason to the winds. Still, the storm must move on...? KA-BAM!! I say no more of life or death but hold her quivering close. The storm roars off, taking trust along. Let others welcome raging skies with deep appreciative breath. I will head for cover.

The Rains Rain happens onto the roof, gathers itself into rivulets and coasts to earth to cleanse and feed what lies rooted there. Rain hurries onto the roof, rushes off without reflection to join the puddles forming below, eager to arrive before they are absorbed. Rain gallops onto the roof, slips and crashes over the eaves onto the ground and dies. The world is awash with dead raindrops, suicide soldiers in a battle against cheer.

Petals, 1984, acrylic on panel, 18 x 30 in.

SUMMER / FALL

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