In Stormy Weather:
On melancholy day,
summer is like winter;
The sky is gray,
there is no wind,
it is calm and cool.
Occasional rumble,
of near by thunder,
crescendo then decrescendo,
rocking me into quiet meditation.
In all her glory:
There is such revelation;
I am wrapped in the sounds and sites of nature,
(It would be cozy, but my fire will not stay lit.)
While tapping away are specs of micro puddles,
reuniting in reflective ponds, cradled by the earth.
(For A Friend,
when tormented by summer rain.)
By Dances Soaringsong ©
| POW & MIA
Not Forgotten 
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