Battle of Horizons

        Grey clouds lurk on the horizon, a wall in the east that is slowly fading away. I wade through a puddle and tepid water swishes against my sandals.  The grass is sagging after the weight of the torrents. In the west, the sun pours through the wall, a golden glow on the opposite horizon.  It grows brighter and brighter, and a gentle crimson dances along the dissipating clouds. I look from one horizon, with its dark menacing sky to the other's brightening dance. The world trembles in between. Maple trees are laden with raindrops.  The cracked sidewalk is dark with rain. But then a bird chirps, and Heather and Lauren are laughing. I stop. I stare at one sky, and then the other. I stand suspended between the two worlds, a memory of a storm that came through mingles with the hope of what will be. The dark description of pain, and  a gentle, quiet beckoning,  the comforting sound of waves along a beach; or wind in tall Eucalyptus trees calling, “Come and find rest.”