Morning
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

After the storm powerlines lay fallow in the trees.
Sullen clouds receive their penances in the day-breaking sun.
The withdrawing flood reveals flattened grass, and tangles of sticks.

The night digested the worst of the storm—the incisions
of lightning, the gullies of black rain. In the morning,
the glad iris spills open, it’s purple tongues thirsty no more.