[untitled aeolian verse]

step outside into the realm of potential
where just enough rain to dilute the smoke rolled down the mountainside
--wet pine needles exhaling their delicate fragrance
over the lingering hot breath of burning timber--
leapt from the sky in a brief joyous shower
but the clouds don't look playful
so you know there must be more
this is false calm, a mid-storm limbo
poorly disguised, you think,
inhaling energy-saturated air
propelled into your lungs on cool infrared breezes
picking up speed now a steady wind
and the electrical im-
pulses through your veins and you
you are the stormy sky
what will you do with what is stored inside you it
can't stay cramped in there forever and
the sky is black now camouflaged the silhouette of the mountains
but you look over your shoulder at where you know
you think they are just in time to see
the violet light of a horizontal lightning bolt
a brilliant display of
drawing a blank