Bread like winter
cheese like fall
apples like spring
and summer for dinner
at the end
of it all
I eat up the seasons and as it flies
rain on my plate and thunderous skies
sunny day seasoning
snow cabbage lick
wheat grass and bones
crunchy like fries
Lettuce--veins like lighting
potatoes like clouds
Is my face not frightening?
You just must not know how
hungry I am
always feeding myself,
beginning to end
Until I throw up the darkness
and swallow the tides
What am I?
a consumer
reaper of light
What am I?
but the end
of time.
Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 1:28 PM UTC
I am the rage of a hurricane
I am the terror of a tornado,
the panic of an earthquake,
the horror of a tsunami,
and the dread of a volcano
I am the weather,
and with that, the sorrow
that creeps in shame
when you protest the forecast
or proclaim you hate the rain
Why complain something you can’t change?
The sadness dwells within me
All I am is the bringer of life,
Mother Nature, caretaker soothing
I keep the world green and alive
flowers blooming, trees looming
Why rush my time?
I am the loathed gray clouds upon a summer’s morning
and the feared early fog
I am the sky, the calm and ferocious wind that blows
I am the hail, the sleet, the quiet white winter snow
I am the colors that fade away, with luck and love, of the rainbow
I am always beautiful, I believe,
because I do not mean you death
The lighting that strikes a forest fire
gives room for the seed’s first breath
And ‘round the wind fronts swirl in symphony
almost like a spiral galaxy
The thunderstorm bolts
webbing the sky like the strain of veins that revolt
The gust of breeze,
exhale of relief
I am the heat
that burns the dried-up dirt,
peeling and cracking like chapped lips
I am alike you
Why do you not praise me in all of my forms?
You cannot stop me
Why not accept me?
As I am, and all I am is for you
I am never "too" of anything
Too hot, too cold,
it is my duty to keep things in the circle,
whether I clean and renew, or rust and mold
Praise me
I will arrive when most needed
You notice, the lakes are getting low,
look up, see the darkness spreading so
I will fill up the drained,
water the plants,
and everything will sustain
order like ants
I could be loved,
thanked, gratified, adored
If knowledge would free itself
and words could be held back
For you are living on this earth
and because of me,
nothing will ever lack
I am the change of a hurricane
Be content, do not lament
Flow with the weather, as it flies,
and do not wish for sunny skies
Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 1:26 PM UTC