Stormwalker

What if, when branches rattle on windows
throwing cryptic shadows from the streetlights
and leaves dance as dervishes in gutters
and the night’s low howl begins to build,
instead of battening the hatches down
and binging Parks and Rec
you grab your raincoat, torch and boots
and pace it out into the storm, ignoring
no, accepting the drenching that comes
as the sky empties out its cargo bay
sustaining all that lives and grows
leaving you as soaked as if naked
opened to the elemental
no longer fearing wet and cold
but charged until overflowing
so walking becomes a movement through
the obstacles your mind projects
until you see what lies beyond them?