At one with myself

The heavens are distressed this morning,
A thunderous roar erupts piercing the break of dawn,
Rain lashes incessantly against the window pane,
I burrow deeper into myself,
And wrap my proverbial blanket ever closer.
Autumn golds and browns are drowned by winters ire,
Melancholic, reflective murmurings brushed aside,
as yesterday's excesses are washed away,
Baton down the hatches and stop the clocks,
I will never succumb to winters mistress,
The fire burns bright in my heart and I embrace the day ahead.

poem by Simon Thorpe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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