Umbrella skies are soft and gray,
Blocking away blue days
They catch the rain, but dump it away
The wrong way
I hold the forked lightning handle tight
And want to go home, safe and dry
To where I can sit by the firelight
For while plants can turn green and
Live long lives,
I look up at the sky and sigh…
Being in my warm room, breathing in pencil wood and rubber eraser shreds and papery souls that live in my books
In my mind flying when I stand up high and inhale the air and the sky: My wall, a tree, the bars
Sheltered in the roof and touching the rafters when I pause in the dusted attic, breathe in and out
In the library and museums, history and fantasy entering my lungs and dancing through my thoughts
Breathing in my homes, letting their happiness settling and be remembered
littlewordworm 