ordinary morning, late, bright and clear
weekend, no hurries, lets stay on in bed

in a flash, thunderous roar from above
mountainuous rock crashing, my mind saw

the skies echoed, rumbling in agony
rumbled and rumbled, on and on and on

strange sinister sound, trapped constant droning
UFO? baby superman landed?

rushed outside: no crash, just clouds in clear sky
rumble, rumble, rumble, man-made or what?

thundering, faint and far, near and muffled
none thunderous as the first rock that fell

then it rained: heavy; a soothing warm rush
droning masked, but strangeness etched, and lingered.

Do you remember flying kites
The anticipation
The frustration of trying to catch just enough wind to feel finally caught
Through extension of a thin line we would be flying high and oh how the air felt nice and as the wind pocked up we would soar higher into that mesmerizing blue sky
We werent in control but that didnt matter for the sky is a much more forgiving sea
We sailed the skies reaching as far as the amount of string we had

My smile appearing
like the blue sky after
a cloudy day.
Because of the wind,
I feel it rip me away from today
to the periwinkle flower
held only by her stem.
The gentle gust mending
her fallen tears.
looking now at her
withered petals
Fly Away to the Wind.