When weather takes you back

I want to bite the sky in half, to sever
Cloud from cloud, devour
Branches leaves and buildings that peek
Over the horizon.

It’s raining on a Monday afternoon.

The clouds are roiling like August evening thunder.
I can see a sliver from this glass box I live in
From nine to five.

The leaves are flying wildly —
Falling upward through the weather —
And I remember dancing in the rain when the drought broke
Two days after
We bought our house.

Our yard was sere, severe and brown.
I was barefoot and the bristles pricked my feet.

We didn’t eat much that summer. We were broke,
And the down payment,
Plus the last month rent,
Plus the need to not increase our spending —

And everything was hot, and brown, and dry —


I’m happy when it rains.

I still write sometimes, and I have a buttload of already-written stuff. So there you go.

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