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.