Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The Rain Rolls In

The rain rolls in,
billowing, pushing plumes of H2o and oxygen
up against the trees.
The rest of the sky hangs low and blue over the hills,
shielding us from something; protecting.
The pine needles shiver and dance
with their partner the branch.
This time the wind is the rhythm and
the droplets of rain are the melody.
A fishing boat drifts by in the grey and
winks back with an orange glint in its eye.
Waves, steel blue, bobbing up and down.
Brown, the land curves towards the expansive
windows I sit behind, watching
the rain roll in.