Seven Trees

Fog krumps into the valley,
a coordinated pop-locked logic.
It isn't easy being weather,
open to the bitterest
of criticisms.

It takes force and atomic fractalature
to create snowflakes, it takes
the purest of cautions to make
raindrops. They are as beautiful
as death.

Broadcasts about thunder,
wind, the shaking of the earth
are a mosh pit of terror
over what we feel we can't manage
with an umbrella, or even aspire
to be. We wish to be so free.

Let the weather
express itself through stomps
and arm swings, let it battle
in a kingdom of radical, uplifting, mighty praise.