THE SKY THAT GRUMBLES

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This poem was written by freelance contributor C. Madria Steven

The sky roaring
So very loudly
Sounds like dinosaurs
But is not scaring me.

All the world,
Myself included,
Hosts a million barks
Without tangible bites.

How, then, could you expect me to be frightened, when the overwhelming predictability of myself is so well established in all others?

As the rain beats the drums,
Growing more insistent
With flashes of danger,
Intimidation grows subtly.

Yet I listen to the sky
Yell at everything right now
And at nobody in particular,
Just like I try not to do.

The knowledge of shutting windows to create safety prompts me to leave them all open,
for everything is much clearer way up here!

The vibrations of the bass cloud sounds
Sooth my heart and bones
For I can relate to the sky right now
As it works to soothe
Our blazened earth below.

Do we ever thank the sky for doing so? Then it has the right to grumble!

The sky that grumbles
Speaks the words that I cannot,
So I recline and bid it stay,
Hoping always for more energy.

I wish that humanity’s words
Were as sincere and crystal clear,
Wrought with purpose every time
And not all that unkind.

The crunchy, rolling sounds
Stomp my feet for me,
Emphasizing the right tones
While the rains feed every hue.

As the clouds have had their say
And the wind lets them speak,
The drops become my tears shed
As the whole event recedes.

I listen to it heading north,
Feeling heard by the cool
Refreshment from the scorch,
And know that soon I’ll hide again.

I’ll hold my breath behind the smiles
While waiting for the next sky speech,
For only this expresses exactly
what I feel every time you lie.

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