Change of Season.

I’m starting to miss
the rain – the humble
falling from grace
of something so sweet,
innocent even, coming
down from the heavens
to greet us all here.
Or maybe I just miss
how you’d wrap me in
your arms with every
drop – either way, I’m
ready for spring.

Nine.

That first rain
brought me into your arms.
I was shaken and stirred
with flashbacks of
raging waters and flood zones
from last September.

That first morning after
I knew winds were changing –
a turning tide of emotions,
flooding the cracks and holes,
washing away debris and dust;
creating a new April.

A start to a finish;
an anticipated recovery.

That first natural disaster
brought me home to you –
risking chance and opportunity
to hold you, be held by you,
diving and rushing forward
with catapults of blue.