Storm Clouds
Today, I am sharing another poem by Robert Wilson. Bob and his wife, Joyce, moved to the Yachats area during retirement, and we were fortunate to have him as a part-time desk clerk at the Overleaf Lodge and the Fireside Motel for several years. The poem reflects the experience of standing on our coastline during a storm.

We
The Storm
And I

The wind blows its freshness into me
and the endless energy
of the sea
rushes to engulf.
Looking into the face of the storm
I experience being part of
an endless dimension.
I feel the urge to capture the sensation . . .
press it into my presence . . .
internalize it.

I cannot.
I am only part of the great moment.
It rushes by
forever distancing itself from me.
I am in the rush
but I would like not to be.
I would like time to savor the moment
And hold it still
forever.
Whatever there is is becoming
from having been.
Having been is always in
the becoming and
that is the most anything can ever be.
I love the storm
for its senseless fury and its reminder
to me
that I . . . only a small part,
a human part . . .
belong to the earth as much as the storm.
I feel it as it feels me.
I too am becoming but the winds
in my sail
abide in my mind and, if I want,
I may chart my own waters.

Robert Wilson, 1999

Storm Rainbow
You can read his poem “The Lodge & The 804” here.