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.

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Another rough attempt at nature poetry. I don’t tend to be a visual person, but I’m trying to learn.