April Poem-A-Day 18 – Weather
It’s raining over the marshes
and the fog won’t leave.
It has a point to make
and it will stay to see what we do
in return.
It’s snowing in the forest
and the temperatures dissocialize us from
the fairy-tale Christmas mood,
but are plain terrible biting frost.
It wants to see if we know where
to hide.
The dessert is suffering the sand storm
of a lifetime.
Miles to the horizon are hidden
behind the dusty curtain
which grinds my brain
and sprinkles its yellowness
over the imaginary wound
I am weeping over.
©2014, soulmary
