Let's Talk About The Weather

Let's Talk About The Weather

A traveler with a precious map,
folded against my chest,
creased and worn at the edges.
I looked for you, before the tornado
started scratching the earth,
when the sky still held its breath,
when knowing birds fell silent.
If not weather, what were we?
Storm fronts meeting over open prairies,
a clash whispered about by locals for years to come.
Your lightning finding every nerve ending.
Now I trace the aftermath on an atlas near my heart,
valleys carved by flash floods of your leaving,
My fingers following the topography of your absence,
searching for the path back to you.

-nl
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