Tiny eyelashes blink against mountain cheeks. Lightning. The summer storm soaks everything; a symphony played fortissimo on upturned, yellowing leaves. The locals say the river runs tame, at least until released. But tonight, it may make parole, as the porch quivers below, and a broken wing inside me beats unevenly. Thunder is no gentlemen. The sullen sky sneers at the stars they smother. Sweat pours down my sky light in black and white stripes. Nature is a spiteful mother, exorcising her demons, and after several hours mesmerized, I burrow under covers and try to ignore her bullying.
©2023 | K.F. Hartless
Artwork: Hannah E. Johnson





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