the last of the storm clings to the leaves
and glistens off the grass, emerald-green
wind blows through my hair
shirt’s soaking wet, clinging to my back like static
mud under my nails; smeared on my knees
birds flying like paper-kites
fluttering with the wind, dipping and diving
and rushing toward the sea
snapping me awake
and there’s a rainbow in the sky, sinking down towards the earth
my heart gleams like crystal, sharp and great.
Another rough attempt at nature poetry. I don’t tend to be a visual person, but I’m trying to learn.