2014 April PAD Challenge: Day 18

One of the cool things I was asked to do already this year is to be a guest judge at the InterBoard Poetry Community for the first three months of the year. It was fun reading through the submissions each month, and my last round of judging recently went live on the site. Click here to read the winners–and to check out the various forums/communities.

For today’s prompt, write a weather poem. A weather poem can be a poem about a hurricane or tornado; it can be a poem about the weatherperson; it can be a poem about forgetting an umbrella on a rainy day; it can be big; it can be small; etc.


2014_poets_marketGet published!

Learn how to get your poetry published with the 2014 Poet’s Market. This essential guide to publishing poetry is filled with articles on the craft of poetry, business of poetry, and promotion of poetry. It includes poetic forms, poet interviews, and new poetry. But most importantly, it includes listings to poetry publishers, including book publishers, magazines, contests, and more!

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Weather Poem:

“my brother, the storm chaser”

my brother is a storm chaser
i am a storm racer my brother
chases after storms i race from them

my brother looks at online data
& knows where tornadoes will drop
i just see a big red & green blob

of potential destruction my
brother is the guy everyone
in my family wants to discuss

i am happy to fly under
the radar & stay out of harm’s way
& pray for my baby brother’s health


Today’s guest judge is…

Nin Andrews

Nin Andrews

Nin Andrews

Nin’s poems and stories have appeared in many literary journals and anthologies including Ploughshares, The Paris Review, Best American Poetry (1997, 2001, 2003, 2013), and Great American Prose Poems.

She won an individual artist grant from the Ohio Arts Council in 1997 and again in 2003 and is the author of several books including six chapbooks and five full-length collections.

Her next book, Why God Is a Woman, is due out from BOA Editions in 2015.

Learn more here: http://www.amazon.com/Nin-Andrews/e/B001JOVUG.


PYHO_Small_200x200Poem Your Heart Out

Poems, Prompts & Room to Add Your Own for the 2014 April PAD Challenge!

Words Dance Publishing is offering 20% off pre-orders for the Poem Your Heart Out anthology until May 1st! If you’d like to learn a bit more about our vision for the book, when it will be published, among other details.

Click to continue.


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems. He really does have a storm chasing brother named Simon Brewer (click here to learn more about him). Learn more about Robert here: http://www.robertleebrewer.com/.


Weather the day with these poetic posts:

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670 thoughts on “2014 April PAD Challenge: Day 18

  1. eileenDmoeller

    How Green Is More Green

    In the rain. How water collecting on leaves
    turns them glamorous, more themselves somehow,
    all green essence brought forward to meet what’s falling,
    even as it makes what we see less clear, fuzzes the air,
    dulls the sharp angles of rooftops, cloaks everything
    in a ricocheting mist, atmosphere all thickened and silky,
    awakening every cell of the skin, every hair gone expressively curly.
    How it turns the sky white, and still makes everything darker,
    so we sit stupefied in untimely twilight. How the limbs of the trees
    sag downward under heavy showers, how afterwards they will push up
    new growth as they drink it in. How its soft staccato resonates to
    the multitudes of selves we’ve carried far and wide, most of them
    warm and dry and quieted into listening to a whole day of this liquid
    music. How the past collects on a day, shines it up, and greens it forward.

  2. Andrea Z

    Scenic Route on a Spring Day

    I divert my usual route home
    to take the back road
    that winds along the Erie Canal;
    it is a peaceful route,
    beautiful on a spring day;
    the sun shimmers on the canal’s surface,
    and I can feel the warmth
    through my car window.
    The scent of a charcoal grill
    fills my nose,
    and I am convinced
    that summer is almost here.

  3. stepstep


    When the sky is a bright blue
    My mood respectively coincides
    My limbs work like a rubberband
    No limbs, no pains, just a rigid glide and slide.

    Storms arise; they bring and deliver dark clouds
    Filled with lots and lots of rain
    Which entice a somber mood
    To navigate a main strain.

    Of day after day after day
    Warm, hot, chilly, cold
    Regardless of what one might say
    Both the weather and my attitude travel the same road.


  4. IndiFox

    Bad Weather

    I don’t know whether the weather will be fine today
    I don’t know if it will rain again
    Or if the sun is already shining
    It could snow for all I know
    Thunder or lightening
    But I’ll only know if it rains
    As the droplets hit my grave

  5. azkbc


    You stand at the living room window
    and look at the sidewalk
    where you’d like to play.

    Yesterday you rode your scooter
    in the park wearing
    your red Superman helmet.
    Faster and faster
    you rode up
    then down the gentle rise
    with Daddy watching.

    Today the wind is swirling dirt,
    dust and allergens
    all around and Mommy says
    you must stay inside.

    Daddy says you may go downstairs
    with him and ride your bike
    as soon as he’s finished working
    on the taxes.

    “I don’t like the wind,” you said,
    “Can we turn it off?”

  6. Earl Parsons

    It’s Weather

    Heat melts glaciers
    Cold refreezes them
    The sun warms the earth
    The dark cools it off
    Rain brings life
    Droughts reduces it
    Blizzards blow
    Typhoons destroy
    Tornadoes obliterate
    Hurricanes devastate
    Then God gives us a sunny day
    And we realize
    Weather happens
    Just as He meant it to
    Nothing we can do about it
    Nothing we can change about it
    It is as it is
    As God designed it to be
    It’s weather

    © Earl Parsons

  7. ianchandler


    rows of brick
    both warm, pale, and all wet,
    from rain that shakes itself downward
    like you fresh out of the shower
    dripping purposely on my skin
    because you like to make me uncomfortable

    garden beds I imagine as saturated coffee grounds
    with light olive plants sprung up, dotting the windows,
    the urban-romantic slides of glass that, with black
    borders, separate me from a field of pistachio hill.

    wet chainlink benchbacks
    those that are wooden and resolute
    and my soy latte
    a sketch of the counter with a found pen
    all of this while
    I pray to God that
    you’ll only go outside with me.

  8. larrywlawrence


    Welcome to Jersey
    if you don’t like the weather-
    don’t worry, it changes.
    Last year we were off
    a week for the hurricane
    this year it was snow.

    Winter is done now,
    ice dams haunted us
    no need for more salt.
    He never liked spring,
    because it doesn’t know
    what it wants to be.

    Four seasons this week
    eighty degrees, a snow storm
    cool, windy, and rainy.
    In spring and fall
    you save cash on utilities
    no AC or heat.

    Ready for summer?
    window units will run hard
    if it hits ninety.
    Hey, it’s better than
    dealing with single digits,
    please remember that.

  9. clcediting

    Sunny Days

    We’re not always grateful
    for the sunny days
    when even the clouds
    dare not mar the sky.

    Days with just enough wind
    to carry colorful kites
    high into the silky blueness
    of the sun-kissed sky.

    There’s not enough poems
    about sunny summer days,
    or even gentle Spring ones.
    Perfect days aren’t dramatic.

    But they are worth remembering,
    particularly because they’re so few
    It takes quite a balance between
    sun, sky, wind, and warmth
    to create a day so perfect
    that it’s worth writing about.

  10. Nanamaxtwo

    April Move

    The elderly man bowed himself
    out of his daughter’s car
    slow as an old tree branch
    strains into the wind.
    Bent on his son’s arm,
    nodding through the rain,
    his mild response to directions,
    “if you say so,” as if
    his trunk had been firmly planted
    centuries before this minor cloud spat
    could uproot his treacherous legs;
    as if his eyes had seen all of significance
    displayed in the crucible of life
    and this move didn’t matter.

  11. LaraEckener

    There are websites
    and small silver boxes
    that will play the sound of a drizzle
    if you press your finger
    against the right space.
    They were made for us
    —the insomniacs, the stressheads—
    those of us who shake in the night
    with terror or exhaustion or emptiness.
    Sometimes the drizzle
    is haunted by thunder.
    Because darkness lives in eaves and
    edges. It slides across our comfort
    and washes us out whole,
    leaving us exposed and alone
    until we realize how long it’s been
    since supper,
    until we realize we haven’t had anything
    nourishing in days
    and the rumbling of our stomachs vibrates us back
    to the notion that we are a we at all.
    There are little silver boxes of pills,
    that are made for us.
    That are supposed to even us to a drizzle
    on the inside.
    I press my fingers into your side,
    desperately trying to make them start working.
    Because what no one who hasn’t been us can know
    is that even though a sunny day
    can look at a drizzle and see
    the coolness in its grey,
    it takes a storm to realize
    that the tempo isn’t the problem,
    it’s that the water falls at all.’

  12. Nanamaxtwo

    April Move

    The elderly man bowed himself
    out of his daughter’s car
    slow as an old tree branch
    leans into the wind.
    Bent on his son’s arm,
    nodding through the rain,
    his response to directions,
    “if you say so,”
    as if his trunk had been planted
    and eyes had seen
    all of significance,
    and this move didn’t matter.

  13. PenConnor

    The Spring Wind (a rondeau)

    The spring wind can’t stop it’s blowing.
    It winds through trees like thread sewing.
    Watch it: stitching for hours and hours,
    piece a blanket of bright flowers,
    to be washed in gentle spring showers.

    This breeze blows softly, keeps going,
    and the green grass starts it’s growing.
    It has such magical powers,
    the spring wind.

    I’m sitting here fairly glowing,
    long past the toil of our sowing.
    Underneath a tree that towers,
    in this lovely garden, ours,
    such gratitude I’m now owing,
    the spring wind.

  14. Michelle Murrish

    Talk about the Weather
    By Michelle Murrish

    Can we just talk about the weather
    Shoot the breeze in our rocking chairs
    Forget the stresses poured upon us
    Pretend our lives are without a care

    Lets imagine we’re immortal
    As the sun shines on our face
    Let the wind take over fully
    Rearranging our life’s pace

    Wash away all of our sorrows
    With the wild, unyielding rain
    Can we just talk about the weather
    And forget all of our pain

  15. horselovernat

    A City Lost by Natalie Gasper

    There had been a red sky that morning
    but no one thought anything of it,
    for many had come before
    and many would come again.

    If only the sky watchers had looked closer
    they might have seen that this time, it was different,
    that the sky was a deeper red;
    the color of untainted blood.

    All happened as it should that morning
    With the fishermen heading out to the seas
    and the women off to the markets,
    their little ones close behind, playing.

    The sun rose high into the noon-day sky
    bringing with it fierce gray clouds.
    Slowly the light began to fade,
    the wind howling as it grew in strength.

    Water from the sea started violently battering the shores,
    waves relentlessly beating the rocks lining the city
    grower higher and stronger with each attack,
    churning as far as the eye could see.

    With a deadening rumble the skies burst open
    to unleash a torrential down pour upon the city,
    as lightning creaked and flashed,
    ravaging trees and homes.

    Fearing the full wrath of the gods was about to be unleashed
    many began scattered rituals and prayers,
    wanting desperately for the storm to abate
    and for their loved ones to return from the raging sea.

    Yet all of this was for naught; the waves continued growing
    and the rain fell in buckets, flooding all the streets.
    Then it happened: the anger of the waves broke through the wall,
    bringing with it damage unmatched by any prior tsunami or hurricane.

    By the time the sun had retired from the sky
    the city had been buried beneath the now calm water.
    Death was plentiful on that devastating day,
    A civilization lost at the hands of Mother Nature.

  16. Jay Sizemore

    Whether the weather weathers

    Whether the weather weathers your words
    or not, the whorls of worlds inside worms and wombs
    will wither to whittled wasps and wands.

    The weather will weather whatever it weathers,
    whether there’s worry or whirl, wherever
    wild winds twirl the weeds like whips unfurled.

    Watch as wisps of whispered wants wing
    their way into whimpering whales, wandering
    witchery of wander-lusted wives, woven

    into wails. The weather swelters and welters,
    swallows and wallows in waste or wear,
    I swear the sword will waken and wage the war.

  17. LeighSpencer

    Camping in the Rain

    Damn the forecast!

    We’re heading up the mountain

    Car packed
    and too much scheduling
    to be deterred by a little rain

    But what about by a whole fucking lot of rain?

    Rain that sees your waterproof tent
    as a personal challenge

    It’s ARIZONA

    You know
    the ARID ZONE

    So this really can’t

    Night one and we woke up
    to two inches of water
    on the floor of the tent

    I wanted to admit defeat
    but, as cummings noted,
    the world was mud-luscious
    and the swamp creatures replacing our children
    were so very happy

    We women

    Decided stronger tarps
    were the way to go

    If you can’t beat Mother Nature
    you can hide from her
    for about $30 worth of plastic and twine
    from the Target
    45 minutes down the mountain

    We drank hot Starbucks coffee
    laughed and listened to the radio
    my best friend and I
    in the front of her formerly white van

    The kids
    (so much smaller then)
    in their slowly drying row of carseats

    Back up the mountain
    to another half day
    trapped in our shelter
    soaked to the bone

    We finally admitted defeat
    broke camp early
    packed up every last soggy bundle
    every drowned lantern
    every sopping sleeping bag

    back down the mountain

    All the while
    enjoying the scenic views
    on the long
    drive home

  18. TuLife

    “Where the Wind Blows”
    By: Tuere Aisha

    I stopped waiting to land
    wherever the wind blows me.
    Found out the wind is always blowing,
    once I unveil my heart to see.

    Like at a picnic with family,
    where every soul is happy,
    that’s where the wind blows.

    A group of friends walking down the street,
    bobbing their heads to a funky beat,
    that’s where the wind blows.

    A school of birds
    singing with no words
    as the sun’s rays shine
    on the forest green pine.
    That’s where the wind blows.

    The soar of a coyote’s shriek
    across the highest mountain peak,
    that’s where the wind blows.

    When a mother bear willingly feeds
    because her cubs have needs,
    that’s where the wind blows.

    Where one’s world is shattered
    and their life has been tattered,
    that’s where a chilled wind blows.

    Where ignorant fools make jokes
    about you and your folks,
    that’s where a chilled wind blows.

    The wind may constantly change
    in direction and force,
    but we will generally sustain
    if we acknowledge its source.

  19. Monique

    Canticle of the Rain

    Rain falls onto my roof
    The lightning flashes
    The thunder roars in the distance
    But the rain itself is quiet.
    As if it wants me to listen
    At first I feared the storms
    The howling winds and booming thunder
    But this storm is softer
    I am aware of its presence
    But I feel no fear in my heart
    Instead I close my eyes
    And long to hear the rain
    Because I realized that rainstorms are a gift
    And that for every day of sunshine
    there is one for rain as well

  20. David Walker

    New England

    This is an official submission to
    propose that the geographic area
    known as “New England” be changed
    The Quandary States of Weather.

    In the past couple of years alone
    there has been a snowstorm in October,
    three tornadoes within a 24hr period,
    and a drought. Not to mention it has
    been cold enough to rival the fictional
    city of Fargo that the Coen Brothers
    ingeniously fabricated in homage
    to Massachusetts.

    You can be wearing shorts in the morning
    and snowshoes in the afternoon. It is never
    safe to leave your car windows down despite
    what the weatherperson “promises.”

    I hope you will not take this proposal
    lightly. People need to know exactly
    what they’re getting into here. And it’s
    not an updated version of teatimes
    and soldiers in fluffy hats as the current
    name suggests.

  21. lily black

    Unquenchable Thirst

    “Keep on the sunny side always on the sunny side”
    We sang through tears falling like the flood of misery
    Singing in the rain did not make us tap a boogie beat or fly through the air
    Our voices could not be heard over the rumbling roar of the storm
    “Let it rain” we sang “let it rain down on me,” but the sun overwhelmed us with radiance
    We did not want to feel warmth or tenderness of blisters anymore
    Chanting useless spells praying the line over and over and over
    Until it becomes one breath one moan one long thirsty exhale
    Begging and imploring for one silver lining to crack
    To fracture and fill the belly bled dry once again
    Quickly before they find her body
    Watch it no diving now
    And leave the boat at home

  22. cam45237

    Real Time Reporting of a Weather Event in the Age of Social Media

    Funnel clouds spotted
    sw of Home.
    I can hear the speeding winds swirling in the dark
    outside my window.
    The lady on the news implores me
    stay inside.
    stay inside
    March 29 at 8:52pm •

    Thunder shaking the house! Thunder shaking the house!
    March 29 at 8:54pm •

    News says storm will hit
    in 15 minutes.
    pillows, blankets staged
    in downstairs bathroom
    March 29 at 9:09pm •

    Cozy nest next to toilet
    flashlight app on phone
    call from worried husband
    visual check of weather
    – light rain.
    March 29 at 9:24pm •

    News says it’s time to seek shelter
    March 29 at 9:24pm •

    Report of touchdown
    March 29 at 9:25pm •

    Just scuttled
    into the john
    with very little
    grace or decorum
    March 29 at 9:26pm •

    The lemon caper chicken dinner is on hold
    March 29 at 9:27pm •

    No touchdown they’re saying now.
    Multiple funnel clouds extant
    Stay safe
    stay safe
    March 29 at 9:29pm •

    The heart of the storm has passed
    March 29 at 9:33pm •

  23. gloryia

    Autumn Wind

    The wind made music in the trees,
    dancing through old willows’ leaves,
    bending low its heavy boughs
    in sweet embrace, to carouse
    with grassy bank and waters deep,
    its silver fingers dipping,
    rippling, water clear and sweet.

  24. gloryia

    And, I’m Happy

    Sitting, maybe dozing
    in the sun,
    with the sea softly
    whispering its tune
    carried on the breeze
    that lifts my hair,
    that kisses my cheek.
    And should those
    lapping waves
    that crawl across
    golden sand brush
    against, then climb
    to tickle my toes.
    I’m happy.

  25. amaranthe

    Ice Age

    When we zipped up parkas for the first time.
    Left dead trees. No more lemon no more lime.
    Alligators dead in three feet of snow.
    blood too cold, became rocks in this clime.

    The miles that we traveled further south.
    No place warm. Everyone with scarf to mouth.
    Headless snowmen and mute snowman babies,
    effigies. Shamans praying for a drouth.

  26. Aberdeen Lane

    the wind whips the branches
    stirring up the energy
    changing the patterns
    rippling the water
    tousling his hair
    along with his heartstrings

    he opens the jar
    a perfect day to stand on the mesa
    rain in the distance
    first rain in months
    he taps the jar
    infusing his memories
    his insight
    his hopes

    the ashes pour
    scattering down the canyon
    catching the wind
    the jar drops
    it’s all in pieces

    he pulls out a flute
    broken notes
    tears mix with the rain
    the drought has passed.

  27. MMC


    My father lived his whole life
    attuned to the weather. No, he was not
    a farmer or a sailor, though he knew
    how to grow backyard tomatoes
    and he fished out of a wood rowboat.
    He simply knew the weather,
    thought it interesting, followed
    the winds and tides, sniffed the air,
    predicted rain by looking at rings
    around the moon. If he could have
    predicted his death just when
    he turned 50, would he have spent
    more time in the sun?

  28. Mustang Sal

    Ice Storm

    The weather warriors said,
    “It will be over soon,”
    but isn’t that what warriors
    say at the beginning of every war?

    And like every war it droned on and on.
    Ice bullets targeting our roof,
    capturing our wires,
    bearing down on our trees,
    limbs snapping like peas.

    We were all uprooted,
    branches flying like shrapnel,
    communication lost behind enemy lines.

    One, two, three, four, five days
    we waited for the cavalry,
    hiding in fox holes,
    eating canned rations.

    we huddled together for warmth
    and told stories in lieu of TV.
    Gas and water worth more than gold.

    Finally, they came –
    trucks with battalions of men
    to repair lines, clear roads.

    Battle over, we plugged back
    into former lives while
    one lone bird sat on a
    still icy branch,
    singing out salvation.

  29. Yolee

    One October Evening

    The persistent rain ruined
    the fresh blue paint
    on Abuelo’s barn,
    and saved her from
    meeting up with
    a green boy
    at a party
    on her last
    night in Ponce.

  30. Heidi


    Passin’ through you say? Don’t like the weather?
    Stick around a bit, it’s bound to change. Did I fail to

    mention we are Tornado Alley? A mile wide black
    vortex barrelin’ down I-44 suckin’ up and spittin’ out

    just about everything in its stretch is one sight not to
    stick around for. Our summers are scorchers crackin’

    lawns and foundations into Death Valley landscapes,
    where the forecast is stormy with isolated fires.

    Plan on seventy mile an hour winds that hop, skip
    and jump across highways and county lines blisterin’

    a wallop of fires that don’t take a likin’ to being fought.
    We plant tomatoes twice because they burn up by July

    and searin’ heat zaps bees into early hibernation. Ice
    and subzero temps plunge us into arctic blasts come

    February, we get confused, and don’t know how
    to dress at times. So you might see us at the local

    Five and Dime sportin’ shorts and flip-flops smack
    dab in winter. Then wrappin’ up in a wool blanket

    with a hot mug of cocoa snug between our shiverin’
    knees come June. But that’s Oklahoma for you.

    If you’re fixin’ to stay and ain’t too partial about our
    climate. Don’t worry, it’s bound to change.

    Heidi R. de Contreras

  31. Snow Write

    hard rain
    collecting below
    sodden earth, waterlogged outside
    Sun breaks through the clouds
    Rain drops stop

  32. Penny Henderson


    The tune circles my brain like a vulture,
    “stormy weather…” since I pulled it together.
    I seldom stick with the words others wrote.
    Words are, after all, my tools and my clay.
    I don’t want to browse a museum all day.
    I’ rather compose than quote

    1. Penny Henderson


      The tune circles my brain like a vulture,
      “stormy weather…” since I pulled it together.
      I seldom stick with the words others wrote.
      Words are, after all, my tools and my clay.
      I don’t want to browse a museum all day.
      I’ rather compose than quote

  33. Blaise


    Denial hits with the first raindrop,
    soon to dissolve when it pours,
    then washed away in a torrent.
    Thousands of music fans camping,
    too grooved to watch the sun fade.
    Out come raincoats and colorful boots,
    and pound the grass into mud slush.
    We’ll later attempt to sleep
    in soggy cold tents, finding
    comfort in our family of mud.
    It always rains at Shakori.
    If we could erase that phrase,
    would it have stayed sunny and dry?

    (In April and October, the Shakori Hills GrassRoots Festival of Music & Dance brings hope to the farmers of Chatham County, NC. Even during a drought, they expect the rains to come with the festival!)

  34. Angie5804

    A Rain Sestina

    Billowing clouds bring the dark
    Anticipation builds for the rain
    To mix in the tracks of tears
    Forming rivulets now
    Washing away expectation
    Taking away hope

    Wafting on the wind is hope
    Blowing away into the dark
    Trepidation mixes with expectation
    For the hail within the rain
    For the hell which is not now
    It is the time for salty tears

    The heaving chest and tears
    Moan for the loss of hope
    For this is needed now
    Searching through the dark
    Through the pelting rain
    A sob of expectation

    Lo, comes a new expectation
    Something to dry the tears
    Something to change the reign
    Of despair into hope
    To take away the dark
    And clear the skies now

    What was is not now
    No more sad expectations
    No more fear and darkness
    No more splashing tears
    For now comes hope
    A spring cleansing rain

    A soft, sweet-smelling rain
    Brings life and newness now
    Brings singing on wings of hope
    Oh, fulfilled expectation
    Oh, the joyful tears
    Oh, the light from dark

    After the rain comes sweet expectation
    The time is now to dry the tears
    Glorious hope has banished all dark

  35. C.

    Three foxes stood on a hill-
    One stood up tall and proud,
    One jumped up, laughing loud
    And the last laid silently
    Down as he chose contently
    To rest his eyes and think
    Of something much more
    Heavenly his knees laid
    Bent over against time today.

    She woke with sudden fright
    At the clock’s buzzing sound
    She looked over at a face
    7:15am. Damnit, time to wake.
    She had hoped she’d imagined
    Hoped it had not yet been time
    To face her fear of getting up
    Each and every day.
    Especially though that time
    Since the Night before she broke
    Something precious to her
    Spoken by her grandfather
    This tale of three foxes who would sit
    Upon a hillside, calm adrift.
    He came across the tale, the gift
    On his many adventures
    Of love, war, and Woodstock
    This time it was her turn, her gift.
    This little child of mine, he’d say
    It’s your turn to have adventures
    To get out and play in life
    Even on the stormy days.

    Three foxes they died on a hill-
    One standing less tall, but still
    He thought what a great thing
    My life’s been truly fulfilled.
    The second thought, less bouncy
    Now, thought, at least I was always
    Just a silly clown, always being myself.
    The third, though resting still his eyes
    Was content always with his life
    Because he chose to see the grace
    And not simply broken nature
    The angry ways and irritating things
    That come and go
    Just as a part of life.

  36. PSC in CT

    Weather or Not

    The weather does what the weather will do.
    It doesn’t care about me and you.

    And our outdoor plans for play & fun?
    Well, they can’t rely on a day of sun
    ‘cause you never know where the weather will go:
    rain, sleet, sun, snow.

    But, whether the weather is horrid or fine
    ev’ry day spent with you
    is a day that’s divine.


  37. Grey_Ay

    A Sunny Day

    A sunny day
    one finally warm
    we tumble out of doors
    to walk
    to read
    we stop to enjoy
    the sun
    the breeze

    Before the sun
    is too hot
    before the rain
    comes again
    before the colors
    and we barricade
    ourselves in.

    -A. Ault-

  38. Pengame30

    “Give and Take”

    Rain pours and the earth absorbs it like little lungs in a sponge,
    nurturing it’s children, and rejuvenating the weak.
    Fires spontaneously ignite, claiming homes and the souls that lay within.
    The yin and the yang co-exist.

    Written By: Sean Drew


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