The thunder woke me up this morning,
rolling, shaking, stirring,
the kind of thunder that reverberates
through the body, through the soul.
Not Garth Brooks’ thunder either!
No, this was T.S. Eliot’s thunder,
thunder that speaks the words of God,
that speaks of salvation.

The thunder is passed now,
and the feeling grown faint;
the sun is out, birds are singing,
the world seems joyful;
the world except for I,
who hopes to hear the thunder
again, to hear God again.