Thoughts (on a Grey Day)

. . . a swath of dusky clouds
above a wide, inviting storefront
as leaves and branches tremble
in the sweeping air.

I hold myself firm from the urge
to increase my stride.
They do not castigate you;
Their arms are not filled with danger.

Why do I wrap myself in fates
that are in no way inevitable?

Then– more absorbed than heard–
thunder plunges through
the atmosphere . . .
 
 
Copyright 2015

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