God’s hungry stomach,

It yearns for celestial

Wherewithal and fare.

Yet there’s little room for thirst.

Thin streams of water bead down.

Imaginings strobe—

It’s like a camera flash.

The trees wear their gloom.

 

Wet air screams past doors

Like a madman, shaking them:

A temper tantrum.

 

My heart leaps in fear,

Then slowly settles back down:

A jostled snow globe.

 

My nose, it senses

The caught electricity,

A note of sweetness.

 

I consider change

And the notion of motion.

Is this my being?

 

The sky’s mood alters.

Channels of light pierce the clouds.

The noisiness fell.

The trees hold onto their tears.

I see a band of color.