Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Contest

What the Thunderstorms Taught Me
by Amanda Roberts

THirty-SEVENTH
Contest
Third Place

The clouds always seem to win.
Despite the salty air’s best efforts
the rain stays long enough
to drive most tourists from the beach.

The ones who stay don’t care
if sand creeps into their shorts,
if rain spits in their tea,
or if seafoam assaults their eyes.

The ones who stay know
that the sandy rain that cuts their skin like glass,
the wind that chills them through their towels —
the storm — eventually passes.
The ones who stay know
nothing beautiful exists in perfection.

But then the clouds clear,
all you feel is the ocean air on your cheeks
as it whistles in your ear.
You soar above the dark crystal of the deep sea
watching the fish leap from their watery refuge.

Your mouth is filled
with the taste of your own laughter,
almost forgotten amid the strife.
All around you, nature orchestrates a melody
of the waves crashing in harmony
with the calls of seagulls and you forget,
even if just for a moment, how tired you felt.