sensation pulls and i respond
in kind in true in trust
i rely on the lyric wind
and weightless i fold and bend
between the leaves and blades
of effervescent blue and yellow and
their child green
i am born with the green in spring
the blue sky and yellow light
it is my nourishment too
and i bud and blossom and bloom
explode in accidental color
stumbling into brilliance
i radiate and receive
this great gift
in kind in true in trust

my neighbor stabbed someone last night
a middle school scuffle turned to adult altercation
and two houses down in the middle of my street
my neighbor was stabbed by someone last night
words turned to fists turned to metal
switch and flick and with children looking on
my neighbor stabbed my neighbor last night
attempted manslaughter and 150 thousand bond and
another child enters in the system
because last night was just another night in the neighborhood

curl to rest close against him,
bask in the cold light of a haloed moon,
**** the dark for stars twice traced—
breathe in, out, sink in silence
to depths unknown.
Gaze long and deep,
**** now the silhouette for eyes to meet,
Align the breath and wonder soft.
Find self and friend in union more—
Such elastic moments forever keep.

i long for space to fold in on itself
with perfect origami creases
to bring me to lay pressed and flat
next to you,
and what a beautiful intricate shape we could make
with our collapsed space,
learning to fold a home from disparate places.

in a moment close to now
three lives converge on rolling wheels
cascading down the highways
endless miles to the unknown  

in a moment close to now
memories to be recounted and stories told
ideas explored like the trails we grace
discovery and growth intertwined

in a moment close to now
dependent on the nature we are one with
seamlessly in our element
the elements that constitute our beings

in a moment close to now:

an embarking.

Mmmm connection
warmth flows through sound waves and tunnels in my ears.
the lightweight presence of fondness settles between my ribs
distance for once is relieved that it did not separate but rather brought together

Mmmm perfection
kind sensations of affection my heart hears
a dedicated time spent deliberately
distance for once not resented but honored as a tether

Stones,
Cobbled in concert
Burnished, to tell of years.
Mosaic streets that are
Subtlety percussive in their variance
Polished pebble instruments
Strummed by shoes and wheels to
Purr, murmur, then roar in resonance

He said he's the prince of apathy
He claims he's the devils advocate
He hides behind his jokes and innuendos
But I see the way he sees things
The way his mind spirals in tie dye patterns
And how his mouth can't keep up

But he loves
Somehow he loves
He loves the way things work and they way they come to be
He loves the little tidbits of knowledge
He teaches well and when he cares about something you can hear the change in his voice
A change in his tone

And he hides behind his apathy and crude jokes
But there's something living in him
There's a side that's different
A side that's true

i've never wanted to swim in the sky more than
when i saw the rainbow
yesterday
i've always craved the northern lights
i forgot we have our very own sometimes

it took me a long time
to realize
that when we locked eyes--
all those times when i looked at you
and i thought you saw my soul behind my glassy eyes,
you were looking at yourself in the reflection--
my eyes a mere looking glass for your ego

the blues and greens in my eyes reduced
to a mirror of pride

i know we are a species of validation
that we look for other's perceptions of ourselves
and we define our self concept accordingly

but you
i don't think you ever saw me in the process
i was only ever an instrument
for you to play your out-of-tune music on

tired. weary.
of having my red flags always ready
of being on alert for every cue
every subtle hint
from any one of you

i've grown scared of small smiles and long glances
even though that's most of what i do
i'm afraid of seeing it back
because i am always afraid of what complications
your attentions would entail

am i expected to curb my fondness
my friendship
my curiosity
my joy
to keep from leading you on

should i protect your feelings
and in doing so push down my own
do i owe it to you not to
really look in your eyes like i love to
or to not laugh too loudly when i find you funny

do i owe you my reservation my restriction
do i owe it to you to domesticate my affections
so i don't hurt you
when i tell you that:
no, i will not go to dinner with you
even though i would love to
if it didn't mean leading you on

or no, i cannot be that for you,
even though i would love to spend time with you alone
if it didn't mean leading you on

because i love you dearly already
and i want to explore every crevice
of your vibrating soul
but purely platonically

no one else seems to think this way
and i am confused
and sad
i'm tired. i'm weary.
of these ever waving red flags.
i hate the color red. it demands so much.

how to divorce shame from the body
this arranged marriage
she is tied to weights of secrecy and doubt and fear
how can one love what they have been taught to fear
fear is the crucial ingredient in the recipe of christian ethics

-a generous cup of fear
-a few tablespoons of doubt
-a dash of secrecy
bake in the oven of isolation and
let cool in resentment for 30 minutes
or until the core is stone cold
a toxic concoction of shame
appearing as a lily white wedding cake


they will tell you your body isn't yours
they will tell you not to feel pleasure
they will tell you to renounce your ****** sin


if *** is sin i am the devil and we are all in hell
shame has been an abusive partner
divorce that *******
and learn to trust your body again
let its warmth comfort you
let its pulse sustain you
let its beauty please you
let its wholeness consume you
become enraptured with yourself
so your body can be yours again

and then you can chose who to share it with
because it is yours to share
your body is yours,
it does not belong to shame anymore

she told me to get weirder<
! don,t know
how to
weird
weirdin abstractin
! don,t know how to weird
how do ! take a good decision and
flip it--pilf ti
how can ! make something weird and still
important
am ! important
is meye decision im port ant
or
is it all just meaning
less

the sirens sound angrier here
they lash him from sleep with abrupt interruption
the blinds are broken and
stories spilled out like leaking light long ago
and now the blue lights flood in violent disparate array
fragmented through broken blinds
or maybe its just paranoia
but the sirens sound angrier here.

so i ran tonight
i ******* hate running
i thought about it for 56 minutes
because my stomach churned and shivered
and i couldn't settle it
something about feelings and circumstances colliding
an old familiar feeling i can never seem to shake

and so i tuck my lanyard key in my shirt
cool metal on sternum
key card tucked in front right pocket
of loose jeans
and i walk down the carpet hall and outside
the metal clicks of cool doors
i jog through the arched courtyard
crushed leaves packed down under bare toes
and when i make it to the field
i let loose
and run my breath out of my lungs
my feet forgetting the cold of the fall evening dew
then
relentlessly pattering pavement
as i loop around the square
and race my shifting shadow under street light
back and forth again
and pant

i run the breath out of my lungs a
second
and a

third
time

my pulsing veins overworked and swelling in rhythm
toes are red
ears feel red
blood is still red
as far as i know
and i walk back

i swear i've never felt so light

there’s a sycamore in the morning light
one side is all pale yellow white
the opposite fades from slate blue
to envy green
roots to tip a perfect gradient
blue to green as the reflections shift
from sky to leaves
and the leaves
the leaves are caught up in it all

The air hums with static
Electric and sharp
Palpable in between our
Magnetic laughs

This evenly dispersed cloud fills the memory of rock
Hulled out by great machines in decades past
A haunting memorial to a past life in layers of mineral.
Oh! And now the sun quickens
From some unknown corner of the world--
It excites the fog
With a tone of brilliant urgency.
But I feel the fog resist,
Maintaining its:
“I am here now, only here, and only now”.
The birds pluck and pull at the corners of the shroud
With quick lyric bouts,
But how to awake the sleeping beast of a cloud
When it has rested so calmly,
So transcendently,
Upon the silent waters
Of the quarry.


At last,
All in an instant,
It resigns to the harmony songs of the birds
And the brilliant shine of the sun,
And it rises and quickens over the water --
A gentle exodus.
And as it goes,
I feel it kiss my cheeks
With a fine dusting of mist,
Like a last great exhale.

The line between you and I
Once hard and fast
Steel grey and black
Now fades and simmers away
To silvery white
Cloudy mist
And you are seeping into me
And I am seeping in to you
Our divisions are mumbled
Woven and interconnected
I have lost track
Of where you end and I begin
And I'm dizzy with it all.

She throws punches with words
He dodges but they land anyway
Sinking knuckles into his mouth and gut

With glances and sighs
He flips out pocket knives
And with a sharp tongue he slits her ears and eyes

Slashing empathy and demeaning humanity
They belittle each other and lose
The commonality they once enjoyed together

I watch as they open up wounds long infected
And attempt to stitch the gaping holes in their skin
But their hands are still shaking with emotion
And the wound still festers under sloppy thread

They need a doctor I know I can't be
But I feel each punch and slice
Reverberating through my core
They need a doctor I know I can't be

This body is my palace of water and dust.
It is my earth,
my whole,
my entire empire.
Contained within my skin is a world
of complex systems and relationships
too immaculate to comprehend.

I lay myself bare continually.
Exposed vulnerable and strong, I embrace the wind.
Flexible and malleable, I bend and shift but hold my
center--
somehow my center holds.

I contain every natural phenomenon,
and each of them contain me completely.
I see my reflection in the water and I am the water,
I see the bark on a tree and my skin empathizes,
I smile and my soul takes on the wings of the butterflies
and flirts with the leaping wind.

And you come in and you dump your **** in my rivers,
oil and chemicals polluting my veins.
You mine my depths for the gold and discard the soil,
you exploit my purity.
You ignore my warnings and pleads as if you don't understand my language.
You are the ones who don't believe in climate change,
as if facts were fiction.
You don't believe in your impact on my existence.
You carry on as if i am worthy of nothing but disposal
and exploitation,
as if i am not as intrinsically valuable as you are.

Do you not see yourself in me?
Do you not see your own reflection in the waters of my eyes?
Do you not recognize the similarity in our skin?
Our commonality in the blood that pounds like torrential floods
on the windows of our souls
reminding us that we live?

Do you not see the web of life that binds us
so intrinsically together?
We are as inseparable as inhale and exhale.
We need each other--
we are the same process,
the same breath.

the loving is folded inside the aching.
the rich and deep is the sandy beaches reflecting in a million directions —
the light blinding and the earth burning, it is everything
at once.
the splendor of magnitude contained in a moment,
the moment is bursting at the seams now.
the thread unravels as the sheets unveil the
limitlessness of time - the error of its conception,
the paradox of infinite finitude, of finite infinity—
we are living life in the spaces between certainties.
we find our rhythm to the music of experience
and we fall into ourselves, and find home between our ribs,
nestling into the cavity of being, we trip into each other,
fall in embrace, and rise in ecstasy of laughter.
we are copper rays of light, exuberant !
flitting between the maple leaves
we dance with the tails of grass
we hum in synchrony till the moon reflects our lily cheeks.
and we taste the stars and see the galaxies behind our eyes,
the construct of days fade away and it is only space
between certainties of light and dark
and we inhabit it with a bold stomp and a wild laugh.

They were lost in each other
Without a road map out
They would wander in each other's minds  
Tickling their thoughts


Though they were separate stars,
From far away they shone like one
Radiating outward and
shimmering with light
They were perfect together


Torn between friendship and something more
They both eye the line between them
Drawn by their own hands
That now they perhaps regret

Invested in friendship,
Lost without each other
Unwilling to take that leap
Unable to watch it fall apart
So they stay.

Stay.
Until their patience cracks
And neither can take it anymore
Because when he looks into her oceanic eyes
He can see nothing but beauty
And when she gazes through his acorn irises,
She can see nothing but love
And a friendship is hardly sustained
When you crave
To wake up next to the person
You swore to yourself
You didn't love.
And so it ends in bitter longing
And it shrivels in disuse

I am a monumental Woman
my Scalp plunges the sky depths
and my wide Soles caress the clay layered deep
my Palms hum with light ever
expanding ever surpassing my Fingertips
the curve in my Spine sings with the
waves of the ever shifting sea
and I see with the Eyes of every living thing
empathy seeping into my Bloodstream

this Body is my Earth
my Home
my Sanctuary
my Palace of water and dust

I lay Myself bare
I am exposed open and vulnerable
uncovered
yet I bend like trees in the storm
like grass under foot
and I undulate like water over stones
like smoke twisting  
I flicker like flame over fuel
like wind in Your hair

I have chosen to let my Limbs stretch and
soak in the open air
I have chosen to drink of fullness and
taste the richest fruits of life
I do not hide away in forgotten caves or blue corners
I am here in the open
breathing deeply of this golden air

I am not sorry if my boldness upsets or disrupts you,
if You cannot help but notice the depth and breadth of my Life
this is Me and I will not hide that I am a monumental Woman

This inconsistency that rumbles
Churning within the recesses of my ribs
I down a pill of self pity with a swig of pride
And tell the pain to go away
Tell myself it was never there
That I'm fine I'm good smooth it over
Put a baggy shirt on so you can't see
The holes behind the recesses of my ribs

Loving you is easy in theory
And most of the time in reality too
But sometimes when you ask me to do that little task or tell you that little thing
Something within me threatens to snap
Because I perceive that you see the satisfaction of your need to be more important than my current occupation
And I feel unseen
Even though I know you see me best
And I feel victimized even though I know your request is perfectly reasonable

And so the contradiction of awareness
When I see the inconsistency in me blaring crimson red and midnight blue
And I don't know what to do with these colors
I don't know what image to paint or what brush to use
I don't even know who I'd give the painting to
Or if I'd keep it for myself

We walked through Tennessee snow
In cheap shoes and
Paper socks
We skipped down the slush path
With coffee mud and silver pebbles
Swinging our held hands
between the three of us
We saw life differently that day
The simplest things had a golden sheen
A mysterious bliss
A gentle joy
A cappuccino a latte and a hot chocolate
Ordered and drank in cozy contentment
And we talked in the freezing parking lot
But the longer we conversed
The warmer I felt
Our conversations warming my soul
And we got into our cars with freezing toes and full hearts
And drove away with images of each other
Echoing behind our eyes.

Delirium culminates to heat of genesis
As from the nidus of the chaotic moment
Emerges some lonely stalk of limber growth,
A bud...then a break
A break
A break! to bloom
Cerulean dress freckled with ivory
Plume and reach
To welcome light
And fuzz of bees

I yearn to exist in a space where the stars all but blaze
Where “stars” aren’t celebrities their plaster faces plastered
on magazine covers lining the shopping aisles
But where they bask in the night sky unpolluted
And exist radiantly

Where the culture ceases to revolve around
the newest latest fashion or video
And instead revolves around the ripening of figs
And the blooming of chrysanthemums
And the migrations of the swallows
Where we look like awestruck children
to those unpolluted stars above us
and this great earth around us
to tell the time and pass the seasons,
Living then in harmony with the revolution of the very soil and air
from which our life flows
It’s easy to forget

I crave an environment
that does not depend upon phone screens
Where my peers and myself do not walk through life
in an addicted daze
Unaware of the haze that descends as an effect
of such technological dependence
We are walking around with our eyes unconsciously searching
for the stimulus that society constantly feeds us
We are tripping over ourselves just trying to keep up
These electronic signals flashing upon thin panels of glass
And This is what we call Living

The dopamine flooding our brains
when that text vibration brings our popularity to attention
Capturing our attention holding it captive
We are prisoners of our own purchases
Stepping into voluntary chains
Producing our wrists for shackles
Rusting our humanity away enchained
in a web of unsocial media and notifications
We neglect to make space for our own existence
Disconnecting from our own physical experience
We don't even feel our fingers typing and swiping
Hoarding gluttonous over likes and comments and click bait headlines
Consumed by our own consummation  
We never have any silence

I yearn to exist in a space where our eyes like stars all but blaze
Awake with acute awareness of the present moment
Where we break shackles and push comfort zones
Basking in the raw beauty of an exuberant life we are conscious to experience
I yearn to exist together as radiant as the stars in the vastest galaxy

two decades lay behind,
ahead, unnumbered days
hover in the mists of the unknown
suspended in shroud of pall and potential
But i will not dwell in the mists,
where centers are known to tip and lose
themselves
and no thing is distinguishable from no-thing

I will dwell instead
in the dark soil of the here,
which after settling and settling
is ploughed through, upturned
and peeled apart by the urgency of now
my flesh the earth body
that uproots and breaks open
and breaks, and breaks, and breaks

comfort is misunderstood
stagnant dark is black as death
the plough must come
to whisk light into this soil
even as i break
and break and break and break
I feel the sun pour through my cracks
and flood these raw sifted valleys

the first time: my idealogical house collapsed and
i stepped outside of my consciousness, and i wept as
the tectonic plates under me shifted,
destroying the comfort of my taken-for-granted worldview.
it took me months to tell people
--my family didn't know for months--
some friends still don't
i wonder how many still pray that i will come back to "the faith"
that they say i don't have enough of
because of course its that simple
they didn't feel their foundation collapse as i did
they didn't feel the visceral and inexplainable awareness
that unapologetically obliterated everything i thought i knew
they didn't peer into the endless dark space that was revealed under my foundation
i hold nothing against anyone
i have walked in their shoes and prayed their prayers
i know what its like
i know they mean only the very best for me
and i am thankful for that, truly
so i hold nothing against anyone

The second time was more drawn out and painful.
i delved deeper into the cavernous abyss
that i had stepped to the edge of and peered into last time--
this time i jumped in
and i fell for so helplessly long
--my body was lost in time and space--
before i remembered i had a parachute.
my brother's shoulder and a glass of wine
the perfect parachute to slow my fall
and help me find my feet underneath me.
this time i had questions,
so many questions about what it means to be human
and to be a human in this cavernous abyss

The third time was alone again
sobbing shaking and scribbling words in a journal, i want to
understand what this is.
another fissure opened up beneath my feet and i fall
--still deeper into the earths core --
and as i write i realize
that its not the earth's core at all,
but my own

its my own consciousness i have plunged into
all these times
the dimensions that expand so endlessly
behind my eyes
beckon me into them
and i have
willingly let them lead me deeper into myself

however disrupting and disorienting it is
i know myself better
because i am plunging the depths of my being
an i am more me than i have ever been
and it feels right and it feels true

two sheets of paper--eighteen digits total

the first on blank printers paper
torn in a vaguely state like shape
kentucky maybe
pencil lines describing nine numbers
scrawled
that paper dropped in my lap
as i sat on the floor
crosslegged
drawing in hand
confusion in mind
a sly smile and shuffling feet under baggy jeans
carry the boy away

the second on lined paper
torn by shaking hands from philosophy notes
nine numbers copied with a borrowed pink pen
and a name below.
that paper placed on my desk
with a hasty whispered sentence
a kind of reverse suicide note
a hope at life he wanted to share with me
with someone he thought cared about his epiphany
his oversized sweatshirt and damp eyes
follow his flashing soul out of the classroom

theres a dangerous time of night
when productivity is essential
but the clock at the corner of my computer screen stops
meaning anything
the numbers are fascinating as they float by changing
almost beautiful
the tyme what is tyme
is it time or tyme what makes it mean anything
and so existential crisis's happen at 11:46 and then again at 2:53  
those numbers are beautiful in a cruel sort of way
they creep up on you and lie, saying
everything is fine as they slip through your still fingertips
hovering over the keyboard for so long now empty
digital pages taunt fingertips
but the numbers are pretty again
3:01
****

echo and bend to break silence and sift radiance from mismatched oddity as streams of undercurrents waft through city streets to open windows of kind homes with vivid breath of cosmic immediacy wrapped in mundane happenings we are all just simmering in our unkempt souls finding cavities between our ribs and forging safety between boulders of fear we ache to feel the sensations of the perfection we taste on the first wind of spring and yet the fingerprints of trauma press firm into our bellies and yet somatic we cannot ignore our human legacy as our bodies protect the very seeds of mystery.

She stands—
every few minutes turning abruptly to no object.
Hips pushing forward, shoulders sliding back,
red soled sneakers and plaid flannel slacks
beneath a dramatic black trench coat,
in the grey shadow of a gothic church.

She smokes the grey and blows white,
and scrolls through the neon screen
with her one ungloved hand,
a bun perched stiffly on her scalp, unheeded,
an afterthought, if there was one before.

Her backdrop—the heavy iron fence of a graveyard,
and centuries old glorious stones watch
as she spends her minutes
engrossed
in the luminous green of infinity.

it would feel normal if it was a bus stop,
a grocery line,
a hospital waiting room,
even a lonely bench.

But she stands,
and periodically pivots,
meanders two steps and stands,
and jolts three steps back,
glitching through slow time,
anxious and unresolved—
yet so engrossed.

Finally now she is following the fence out of view, slowly,
and I hope she finds rest.
I feel grateful as the sidewalk carries her now
away from my puzzled gaze

The great stones and I exchange long glances,
and perhaps they are more compassionate than I,
for they seem not phased.

Oh stones, teach me patience, teach me rest.
For you are glorious in endless rest,
and I am still anxious and unresolved.

This heart, the seed—
Firm encased in umber shell,
Life force, vitality concentrated—
My center, my core.
Then this flesh body the stem, the leaves,
The grand expression, the spreading plumes.
My ribs, the roots that plunge the air for life
To stir into the seed heart
And send out to this flesh body the
Good good news of ample breath!

I recognize the hues of growth in my skin—
The viridian, the sap, the ochre with marine,
This is the color of change, and of spreading,
And of seeking light and finding nourishment.
This is the color of flourishing,
And it is traced in careful moments
Woven into my skin
Like wind in the green green trees.

I trod the liminal
But the walk is never long enough
Between is where time and space collide
I the liminal walker
The world resolute
in stagnant unsympathetic response
But for my walking feet
Resolution flits and flees
And leaves empty spaces
Gaping holes in my narrative
I walk over and through them
the metaphors becoming tangible
I trod the liminal
and run the same word
over around my tongue
liminal
liminal
lim
i
mal
lim     I      nal
where am I in it all?

He was against the grain
he faced head on what everyone else was scared to see
He embraced and smiled over
Violence explosions and everything grotesque
He filled the gaps between our comfort
He came to embody the uncomfortable
The ugly and sharp the harsh
And just like that classmates shied away
And just like that we assigned him
Traits he maybe deserved and we wrote him off
We wrote him off
Goddamit we wrote him off the script
Because he was uncomfortable
He made us uncomfortable because he loved
He embraces the things we were told not to
He sought the things and experiences in life
We had taught ourselves to fear
We wrote him off the script because he was
An easy character to scratch
It made everyone feel more cozy
Knowing he wouldn't come that day
Because we want to distance ourselves from such
Disarray and destruction
We want to believe that that can't touch us
But the play won't feel right without him there
I'm telling you the story is flat without him
Because we need him.
Write him back in the ****** script
I swear I'm finally writing him in
I will not distance him anymore
I will not shy away
Because we are in the same script, goddamit,
And I'm about to enjoy this play.

I will stretch and bend
and even if I break
I will mend

Am I one of the people I have hurt?

Peel the then from now
Liberate the here from there
And then fly for breath

2007 misty grey prius
roommate in the front
new friend in the back
soft and kind music fills the spaces
between our skin
my right hand on the wheel
my left out the window
feeling the wind
that weaves
running through us
and binding us together
his face lit by street lights soft
his chin on the window sill
watching the town drift by
her eyes closed gentle smile
plays on her lips
as she soaks in the moon's rays
the laughter of the day still echoing
in our minds as we drive
home

We all harbor hurts
Deep twistings and breakings
That gnaw at our insides
Trying to find their voice their life
They crawl from our belly up our throats and knock at the back of our teeth
But we swallow them whole
Push them down the slide of our esophagus
Because we are afraid
And we don’t want to let them speak
Because we know they are such deep
Twistings and breakings
They are the essence of the cracks within us
But when we do not open our toothy door at their knock
They find other ways
They claw at muscles and organs
They pull our bodies to consciously unintended ends
They seep out sideways
So mangled and unintelligible
That we forget their origin
And we don’t understand how our actions
Are based from our deep
Twistings and breakings
Long rejected
Left to fend for themselves in our neglect

These arches have spanned the country
The architecture of my bare feet has adorned the city streets
And spanned the rushing rivers.
These arches have framed national monuments  
And soared over blanket clouded skies
These arches have leapt and danced and ached and blistered
These arches have traveled well and far
And yet have farther still to go

in this moment i write
i do nothing but write

I feel for all their specificity the particular textured depression
of each key beneath my fingers  
I mul over each syllable and idea in my mind
toying with it's taste on my tongue


i let myself sit in silence when no words come


in this moment i write
i do nothing but write

no distractions exist for me here
i stare at the upper corner of the room between words
i reread what i have typed
i stare at the blinking line as it reveals my next thought


and i let myself sit in silence when no words come


the poetry is in the silence sometimes

the legacy of a color
streaked in violet haze,
echoes through shifty hues:
the spread expanse of sky,
never placed in blue.
white, perhaps, or almost red—
flicker and fade,
and never named.

The world tips
Tilts
Then unwinds

I gaze
But recognize nothing

Wading impenetrable waters of
Inkless impressions

Am I one of the people I have hurt?
Maybe I could come back and apologize to myself first
comfort my own mind and soul
before tending to those outside myself
Because if I am one of the people I have hurt
I deserve my own forgiveness

I pressed my ear against the chest of the world
And felt it's life today
The slow, drowsy beginning of a late sunrise
Creeping seeping over dewy hills
A patient inhale
The tight suspension in the air as the sky grew black and grey
The explosive exhale as the winds blew thick and heavy and sheets of rain whipped the trees
Then the peace after
Between breaths the exhausted calm
The air was spent
The emotions felt
And the sun began to set
Like tired eyes closing
The layer clouds adorned it's decent
In radiant and floating colors
I felt the breath of the world today