in a cozy chair, I journal next to a NW window

it’s early morning & the sun hovers, somewhere,

behind a sheath of milky-white clouds

*

stepping briefly outside for what I hope

will be fresh air, I’m stunned at its heavy stillness

*

I’m lost in a good book as darkness descends —

the leaves of our white birch hazard north to south

& rain polka-dots the dusty windows

in advance of the quickening onslaught

*

I continue with my reading,

the furious summer storm

a soothing balm to the internal ravages

Mom’s recent death has unleashed