There's a storm a brewing.
I can taste it on the wind
as it rushes time on by,
Those insubstantially dry kisses
bringing to my mind nature's
momentary one night stands
with peace, justice, vengeance.
I can hear the war drums thrumming
as leaves rustle in the gloomy morn
pine cones start falling like thunder.
Autumn is on her way, shooing Summer
out the back door with you in her skirts.
A calm, veiled good bye drifts back
and I realize... there's something there.
The air is somehow crisp as it moves
I can feel it crackling against me
as if moving through frozen cobwebs
into the past to reach into the future.
It's turning heady, suffocating the earth,
preparing for the downfall of the sky.
I can't hold it up alone, who will help me?
The smell of rain is everywhere around
carrying your cologne and cigarettes
clinging to me in humidity, inescapable.
The first drops begins to fall to me
and I turn my face up to greet them,
feel them caressing down my face and neck.
Nature will have to suffice in your absence.
All round me is death, all round me is life--
every thing cyclical in position for transition.
I see the changes as if I'm not a part of them
before realizing I move to the same patterns
being painted before me in the season's turning.
I see the coming storm, I see the past swept away
and with the wake of the storm is swept in the future.