Small Storms — A Poem

flower poppy raindrops nature color

“Sunset Poppy” — C.Birde, 5/17


It is not the rain,

nor the drawn, pewtered sky,

but the unexpected rupture,

the rent calm and

aftermath of grief

that pulls,


drags like teeth

through shorn grass.

The price of a heart


Bear it.

Embrace it.

Sit with it —

an old friend come

to pay respects —

till inching hours blunt

the tooth-and-claw edges.

Ride it out,

like the small,


significant storm

that it is.


— C.Birde, 5/17




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