
it’s nearly hurricane season
Spring is rushing in with
her hands flailing wildly
among the trees
the sky is hovering in wait
it spits violently from its mouth
we are huddled in safe spaces
keeping away from windows
and finicky doors
meteorologists plot and plan
and untruthfully dictate when
to expect the worst
I flit from channel to channel
praying for validity
I can hear the wind howling
a loud and present reminder
for me to remain patient
the sun is eager to shine again
and we’ll find ourselves gathered
out in the open to feel
something more than the
enclosed spaces of our homes
crows caw and boast from
building to building
mocking each other during
their calls to mob
the other birds
their means of survival strikes
me as terrifying but
what would they say about us
I press my fingers
into my right palm
a stress reliever
a gentle and surefire way
to calm my nerves
this weather won’t last
and one day
we’ll emerge from the
comfort of our homes
happy to greet the sun again
one day . . .
Originally published via Medium.
Love this. The glimmer of hope at the end sparks. I’m currently sitting in traffic trying to get home. Where I’m travelling from is all flooded so this rings true for me today.
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Thank you, Lisa! Please drive safely and be careful.
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We’re rushing into autumn, but I wish it was spring.
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Spring is rushing in with
her hands flailing wildly
among the trees
the sky is hovering in wait
Just so absolutely beautiful!!!
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Thank you, Pragal!
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