below the concrete floor
of home, of the the belly
Lightening whirled its magic
cutting through thoughts and
items unused, neglected and dusty
Lightening swept away debris
ladened beneath the flowers of spring,
new growth of ideas
It did not sting, hurt nor destroy
It cleansed, fragrant of the storm's purification
It danced easily on the remains of previous activity
and now I dance too, knowing the tendrils of the new
have a surface upon which to entwine and rise
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