The Calm After The Storm 

The trees are blowing there isn’t wind, yet I can feel it’s harshness against my skin. 

There’s something about a storm that’s calming though I don’t like thunder, they say that cold makes one ponder. 

I don’t like rain but it’s nice and refreshing after it’s done, the clouds look as if there will be another one. 

Birds are taking shelter yet here I sit, I see natures warnings and choose to ignore it. 

The world gets a bath I rather be inside, here I sit scoffing at what I deny. 

Rainy days keep us cooped up why not sit in the rain, little kids like to marvel at what will remain. 

The structure I sit on it’s wet and I sit on a towel, like getting wet is our undoing somehow. 

I no longer hear thunder maybe the storm has passed, the level of grey in the clouds is rather vast. 

They say the calm is before the storm but I would have to decline, I think that the calm comes after and we are merely steps behind. 

The cold air fills my lungs as I take another drag, it would seriously be a burden to have to go back inside. 

The sun shines through the clouds and all of a sudden the cold air is warm, I guess there will not be another storm. 

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