The Storm
No one scolds the beach when the waves are angry
When they froth with rage and foam with fury
When they gnash their sharp, shell-strewn teeth
When they pound their fists in impotance and grief Sure, we prefer them sunny and soft
Teasing our toes with demure, kissing caresses
Or sometimes laced with steely currents to make our pulse race But there’s a fascination with a storm’s power
With the violence possible from a drop of water
With the co