Certain Days Like These

Are we meant to match up with the climate around us?

Today’s forecast – gloomy,

periodic stillness

intermittent tears.

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 stretch 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.

Temperature will remain

as different as a forest trail

left without trodden footpads

for two or three seasons

while the earth revives

Her manner of grace we so often forget envelops our silly lives.