CYCLICAL

This is the rain that falls from blue skies down pure until it hits the ground. It circles for miles deep underground until clouds call it home or seas envelop it. I hide from the sounds. I'm not sure if it's the sun crying or me. A whirlwind of light and blue-sky-rains tears at my clothes my hair my eyes. I'm not sure if it's the sun crying or me. But I'm laughing. I know tomorrow will see frozen dreams will bring cutting winds will end a too early spring. I will take it as it is and hope one day the clouds will call me home too.