Are we meant to match up with the climate around us?
Today’s forecast – gloomy,
Winds that wound around our souls
create a need to seek shelter
from the agony of a reality that sometime implodes.
The rains leave us helpless when they spill onto dry eyes.
Water resistant fears
allow the cold, bitter, icy
trails beyond our reach
to become frozen;
We reach out skeptic
arms of early tanned limbs wanton of sunlit skies.
Are we expected to fold up our tents and buckle in fear?
The horizon is a masked hue
of forbidden outcomes
waiting to be renounced
or acted upon with frivolous
denial of lurking dangers.
Chasing storm fronts as we are told to fight our battles alone.
When I die the sun will rise as normally as an autumn mourning.
Temperatures will remain
as different as a forest trail
left without trodden norms
for two or three seasons
while the earth revives
Her manner of grace we so often forget envelops our silly lives.
©Thom Amundsen 2014