At twelve I am the storm.
The three second delay
between thunder and lightening -
never really knowing which is closer.

At one I am the moon.
Witness to slow decaying stars
already laid to rest -
shining still and silently.

At two I am the winds.
Hallowing grey movements
sliding between each other -
never going the right direction.

At three I am the trees.
Dancing petals of soft memory,
delicate to gravel, food for though -
and home to lonely sleeping crows.

At four I am the heat.
Sticking to skins and foreheads,
rising above the sidewalks -
causing mirages to those too far.

At five I am the sun.
Giving light for the moons glow,
giving food for the trees growth,
warming up the earth - for you?