Storms

My storms grow on branches.
They don’t wander away.
Growing with stars in their folds,
They shine endless thunder.
I’m always in awe of them.

There’s a litter of yellow flowers on pliant soil.
The same place where the clouds are born from.

I am growing.

It’s a full moon. She shines so bright.
You almost can’t see her white light. But I feel her strength.

Far away from the sun and snow.
I am growing.

There’s no linearity to branches and stems.
They cut all geographies and maps.
Cling to open windows and doors.
Open to the world.

~insight07

Check out my new book- Sun On My Hands!
https://wp.me/p5gmIC-1a7

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