Grand gestures are beyond me; instead, I'm too quiet

I have no compass... this feels South;
It's towards the clouds threatening thunder
And toward home.

A temporary escape outside-- enough time
to remember to confess
as the strings soar.

If there were stars, I would count them
But the raindrops will have to do.
Either way, I just keep breathing.

Counting down to my place of return:
Where I am safe and whole
Nursing the poet, so terrified
Yet still compelled to sing
After all this time.