Storm

It was too humid,
the saturated air,
smothering skin.

Even the tall grass
was still, waiting to see
what the sky would do.

I was too eager
to claim happiness
as my own.

Like orange tips on oak leaves
the first day of August.
They reminded me
of henna crescents on a bride’s nails
a week before the wedding.

Don’t we know?
There is still much
left of summer.
To brides: there is still time
to change your mind.

Happiness is too heavy
for September clouds
and they dropped their arms
apologetically,
rain falling in torrents.

December 2011

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