Gripped in grayness…
There is a man in the clouds
See him watching
scowls often
fades to gray
Disintegrating with the west wind
he is no more, yet everywhere
scatters hither and thither
with showers
neither caring nor callous
just existing
coming back around
to Watch
no judgment
then dissipating again
And the sun is covered by darkening clouds
a chill has set in
all is quiet
no breeze rouses the majestic evergreens
a Storm is coming…
to scour the land and air
Washing
Sometimes too much
creating and recreating the earth anew