Cirrus Glides

 

by Erin Fordham

        

                                                                                        

I gaze at the sky, yes, I look at how the cirrus glides on the horizon.

I stare at the dark wisps circling the edges of light:

                                        certain the water will fall.

That sudden stillness, nature taking her pause.

The weeping sky darkened, 

                                        pouring out her grievances on the earth.

Heavy cumulus, Sisyphus no longer grasping unto that sea of a boulder.

                                        Familiar smell of asphalt, inundated by grief.

Barkless, stripped trees writhing before me in her winds.

A thunk of the outdoor parasol, failing to withstand her gale.

My father's mildewed flag still tethered to the porch's banister flapping tiredly.

                                        Wind chimes, bursting forth with a chaotic melody.

                                        All of heaven letting her tears fall onto my wooded house. 

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