Clouds (Written June 20)



Overhead clouds continue their single thought,

Which gathers in intensity as the long day

Grows dark. When I go out, I walk


Facing into the wind, and into the rain

As it begins to fall. Huddled, they talk

Among themselves and agree to the course


They will follow. To give the earth a soaking

Is what they propose, and with enough force

To make a difference. For those creatures


Brave enough, or foolish enough, to be out,

Let them stand tall, screw up their features,

And bear the brunt. On and on they come,


The clouds, like buffalo, over the horizon.

The wind gusts, and the power lines hum.

I am soaked to the skin. What scant


Protection these thin clothes afford,

When the clouds descend. I am part

Of the earth, and the earth part of me.

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