Childhood

I am not sure how old I was
When I was told by the thunder,
The old gods have powers.
A simple rock,
Shaped like the thunder-god,
Moss covered.
I giggled about the whole thing,
Only to have wind blow by,
Ancient breath.
Thunder in the distance,
Clouds forming,
Apology dropping.
A child,
Making it better,
Caught in the rainstorm.