the rains are moving sideways
trying to be clouds. or tides.
the small hail flies like birds
and next I look for someone else's Spring
from another planet to fly past
the child at the window
knowing it will last...
no matter how long it is
it comes to pass like the
sudden wildflowers in 28 varieties
the newspeople marvel over
in Death Valley
appearing after another rainstorm...
this was my etude to the winds
on a february day
in a small town (it started out that way)
far away (but with extravagant rainstorms)
from the new map
of the milky way's possibilities
and the astronaut
longing for earth
and ready to return
who feels he has earned it.
mary angela douglas 24 february 2016