Angie Contini’s ‘ballad of weather’

from fierCe

the sky does not cry

                   or feel blue

                          it is simply the sky

sometimes it rains

                 and the rivers rise  

                       but not in anger or with quiet defiance

                                                       they simply rise

and maybe the wind moves us to tears

          but not because it is singing a secret

                                   the wind moves


                                             that is all

a man

                  passing through the world

                                goes with less modesty

he forgets himself

                           says to the others

                                                           I am the weather

                                                                                        the stormy deep truth 

                                                                                                                                  I feel therefore I am

                                                                                                        I breathe through the trees

                                                                                and sweat from the skies

                                                            I beat down my body of sorrow
for all the dry eyes

                 I raise the rivers

                                   for lovers of tides

                                                and surge with

                                  the mood of the moon

               this life of rights

is a tender trap

             it aches with the

aura of the passions

             and all the while

                         the lull

             between life forces and letters

                          decomposes

                things will either be known

          or remain unknowable

                   and that is all