The dried stems of strawberries
scattered on the ground by wind,
reminds me of anxious spiders
scurrying away from an iridescent sunset
towards the welcoming cackle of fanatical frogs.
A sudden gasp of headstrong wind
exposes the nude skin at the base of my neck
and drives anticipation under my bones.
A gray tempest approaches
among her cluster of comrades,
superiority and anguish unmatched,
face stretched ugly and tense
with the weight of countless tears.
Impatience dilutes me
as visions of an electric sky
blending irregularly with the astounding sounds
of a weeping cloud to a drunken landscape,
allow me to find tranquility and solace.
A peacefully tense rest for all
but the writhing tempest.