Weather Poem 3

Weather Poem

It is a strangeness how a little rain
can turn autumn woods from lovely to magnificent
sandy grass glassing to translucent
baby green oak trees grow on you
beeched yellow yearns deep to turn ultraviolet
sourwood salmon swim in bloody seas
and maples flame to their hearts’ content
dripping clear serum
It’s not just dirt washed away
but a new lens added to see that water runs our veins
even as leaves die
and trickle away

 by Asheville weather worker Andy Weatherly, who has had several of his poems published in national journals.

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