Can'T Catch My Breath
The sky has tuned an ominous gray,
the tops of trees begin to sway,
imitation white caps form
and mock the ocean ere the storm.
I watch the thistle feeder swing,
the finches golden cannot cling,
and now I hear the stormy wind,
feel goose bumps rise upon my skin.
The lake rushes like a river,
the birds en masse begin to quiver,
squirrels drape their tails upon their backs
await the rain and thunder's crack.
The world outside seems bled of hues,
stripped of all its reds and blues,
greens and browns seemed washed in gray,
and summer seems so far away.
The sky broadcasts a visual threat,
I watch and light a cigarette.
Soon great drops of rain pour down,
deafening, muffling every sound.
I burrow deeper in my bed
and try to shake the sense of dread.
Nature has the upper hand
on this piece of lake front land.
How'd I wind up in this place?
I miss the southern charm and grace,
I long for Spanish moss draped trees.
and hunger for the ocean's breeze.
Ah, well, I'm here, and here I'll stay,
and live to work another day,
The lake, once loved, resounds of death,
in sorrow, I can't catch my breath.
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