Where I want not to be

It happened not of a fateful day
   

Nor of a day with clear skies

It came on the incoming tide of   an evening

The cries of the gulls were heard
 

Lost in the black pitch of midnight
 

Not seen but their echoes were carried

Harried by the whipping wind and spray
       

        That's when it came

As I stood with toes barely in the cool water
      

Without warning the clouds rolled in
       

The air flashed yellow with a crack
 

The roar reverberated through my bones
         

Waves whipped to a frenzy

The breeze now at near gale force
      

A world with little or no remorse
   

I know where I want not to be
       

           I'll find me a shelter
 

And bear witness it's beauty with a grin

Allow me to watch without being lost within
    

 A Rogues poem, by Joseph Friend