Softly seeping into a rhythm of uncertainty

And unknowingly a soft summer breeze

Turns into a turbulent and terrifying tornado

I pretend I am an avid consumer of literature

Of Frost of Whitman and Angelou

Yet I couldn’t comprehend the shift in the weather

Or it could have been that I did not want to understand

How sunlight stinging the back of my eyelids

Could become puddles soaking through my socks

And ruining my favorite sneakers

Alas I skipped joyfully home

With the memory of sunshine in my pocket

And rain flooding the gutters