a love poem by Thomas Davis to Ethel
The thunder is silence.
It came upon the morning
With clouds more enormous
Than mountains
(Mountains etched against
The dome of sky)—
And now it is silence.
First it rumbled, clouds black,
Anger on quick gusts of wind.
Then it roared, cluttering day
With grumbling songs
And skies of darkened gray.
Now the thunder is silence.
The noonday light is blackness.
We walked into the field…
The daisies were trembling.
fourwindowspress 
Oh Thomas, this is breathtaking.
I love the trembling daisies.
WOW, Thomas.
I must echo Caddo – “WOW!”
Let me add a wow. What a difference there is in saying ‘the thunder is silence’ and not ‘the thunder is silent’. I especially like the parenthetically expressed ‘mountains etched against the dome of the sky’. It is outside the storm, yet is there as an anchor to hold the unimaginable storm in our minds where thunder is silence and light is blackness (not just dark). The daisies are trembling. I am trembling.
I love all the images in this, Thomas, but especially
‘We walked into the field…
The daisies were trembling.’
‘