Wind

In April, we think summer will never

arrive and then it does, all too completely.

Now, we're in parkas and turtlenecks,

trying to stay upright as the wind blows

the clouds like tumbleweeds in heaven.

I miss heaven, used to live there--blue

and poofy white nearly on my head.

And at night, the black black sky, opening

up with rain, and in the distance, lightning

ripping through the dark, jagged

like broken windows.