Clouds amass on the horizon
Building monstrously
Thunder rolls ominously
The smell of earth bound water drifts on a strengthening wind
Terrified of storms
I hunker down
Covering
Fearing
But then the wind changes
The clouds blow south
Nothing much eventuates
Silver light splinters the clouds
The sun comes out
Warming my cold hunched shoulders
It’s all passed
Nothing more dramatic then a gentle shower
Enough to wake me again to the folly of worry
Storms blow over
And those that don’t
Are here to grow the grass
Wash the trees
And restore clarity
Not all lessons are meant for me
Some are just weather patterns passing through
Shadows blanket the ground
They are the reflections of clouds
High above
Moving
Shifting
Life is not for getting all caught up
In mental storms down here
But rather
Witnessing
What needs to change
Before the next one blows in
It’s the end of the financial year, and many things must be tied off neatly. I’m getting there. Sorry for the absence; it’s a habit of mine – to disappear when things get busy. No choice, I’m afraid; there are only so many balls I can juggle at once, and writing deeply requires attention and space to think deeply. The thing is, though – pressure and emotion tend to release into poetry, so I may as well pick the flowers of that prickly thorn bush while they are around. I hope you are all well.
