Sometimes,
I am the weather.


                         I might begin twisting,
                          and touch ground,
                              and leave only a line
                of disruption, sometimes
destruction.


                        I might throw off light-
                                      waves of genuine intensity,
                a Sun's love,
                                         a heat that sends some
                           to cover.


       I might loom large and dark,
til splitting open, to rain.
                                                And wait to think
                                                   on what fruits
                                                  that might bear.



I am
    sometimes the weather,

             not lonely,


                      only wondering,



               what other fronts

                      might be embraced.