The morning was sunny and bright like
A new promise
But like the future,
On the horizon I could see
The dark clouds loom
On the cloudless promise of now
The wind picked up
As if it was warning
Yet, we are cats
Caught in this un-tangleable web
That is life,
Just because we are curious
Curious about the dew of happiness
On a web on despair
This is the web I saw
In the window on the door to my shed
If only I had listened to the wind
I would have seen the blue turn
Turn to yellow predicting the future
The future that moves closer like storm clouds,
Slow like time and then fast like death
Until, like sleep, it is all at once upon you
But the sky was still blue and the grass green
When my nephew asked
Uncle may I fetch my plane
Being the uncle that I was I replied
Sure it is in the shed
Once more I looked out the window
Seeing the clouds I thought were slow draw near
But still thinking them far off, thought nothing of it
If only I had looked at the western wheat fields
I would have sent for him
But now because of it I am the wheat field
Bent and broken
Now the sky was yellow
Like a metaphor for life
Because the sky so would turn sour
I looked then across the street
And saw all the neighbors running inside
I was again caught looking at the sky
It was turning a dark red,
As if it was saying
Run, but I was never one for signs
So I walked back inside
And I waited for my nephew to come back
When I heard the wind pick up again
Stronger than before
I knew it could only be one thing
I left to my storm cellar
Forgetting about my nephew
The thought of him blown out by the wind,
Until I heard the cellar thump shut behind me
Did I remember what I had left behind
I tried to open the door
But the winds were to strong
Which leaves me here writing from the aftermath
In a dark room
With a candle about to go out
A perfect metaphor for what just went down
As I tried to open the doors
I knelt to pray
And as my knees hit the ground
I felt the earth shake
And a deafening boom
Knowing he was gone,
I cried
Because he was like a son to me
Slow like time and then fast like death
Until, like sleep, it is all at once upon you
But the sky was still blue and the grass green
When my nephew asked
Uncle may I fetch my plane
Being the uncle that I was I replied
Sure it is in the shed
Once more I looked out the window
Seeing the clouds I thought were slow draw near
But still thinking them far off, thought nothing of it
If only I had looked at the western wheat fields
I would have sent for him
But now because of it I am the wheat field
Bent and broken
Now the sky was yellow
Like a metaphor for life
Because the sky so would turn sour
I looked then across the street
And saw all the neighbors running inside
I was again caught looking at the sky
It was turning a dark red,
As if it was saying
Run, but I was never one for signs
So I walked back inside
And I waited for my nephew to come back
When I heard the wind pick up again
Stronger than before
I knew it could only be one thing
I left to my storm cellar
Forgetting about my nephew
The thought of him blown out by the wind,
Until I heard the cellar thump shut behind me
Did I remember what I had left behind
I tried to open the door
But the winds were to strong
Which leaves me here writing from the aftermath
In a dark room
With a candle about to go out
A perfect metaphor for what just went down
As I tried to open the doors
I knelt to pray
And as my knees hit the ground
I felt the earth shake
And a deafening boom
Knowing he was gone,
I cried
Because he was like a son to me
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