Bad Weather

Bad weather horses shake their manes
And drown the world in sheets of rain
Their breath blinds windows to the light
Their temper turns day into night
We make small rooms out of our fear
And curl the heart into a fist
And hope the chimney will not fall
And hope that meal was not our last
And hope this sheet is not a shroud
And that we didn’t hear their shrieks
In the sky above the clouds.
Those who don’t trust, wish they could pray,
And those who pray, begin to doubt
That there ever was a summer
That unfurled our wrinkled souls
When we ran toward each other
Across meadows made of gold
Where we shed the furs of winter
And swam naked in a stream
Where we kissed those we would never
Dare to kiss outside a dream.

©2020 Anna Witte


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