Ground Clouds
Wildfire smoke from up north
wraps around the rising sun,
hugs the air with threats,
this stagnant atmosphere smothering.
Echoes of angsty arguments fill my feeds,
it’s too much to scroll to the bottom.
I stand on the porch with my coffee
looking to the sky for answers as the sun
tries to peak from beneath
those wispy layers.
It looks so much like how
I feel inside my head,
smoggy brain attempting to work
through the chaos on the news
engulfing me, engulfing us all, and
each time there’s progress, it shifts,
haze covering every crack,
maybe confusion is the goal,
the world mirroring our
decisions with fires and floods.
I sit down on the step, contemplating,
trying to figure out what may come next.
2 thoughts on "Ground Clouds"
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I’m glad what came next was this poem, Amy.
It’s a balm for the cracks and confusion.
Thank you!