I want to cry sometimes

when I can’t find my rhythm

a towering inferno

either this or that.

Which one really holds a pulse

versus I will choose

some easier road, or gravel or yes.

I watched the weather

one childhood afternoon

in disbelief

it cannot possibly be that strong

with it purples and reds and fiery mass forming a bow.

If life were meant to be easy

so many strings wouldn’t sway.

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

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