After separating from Addison, I made my way back to Teton Valley Idaho, where the skies are endless and expansive, and you can watch weather patterns roll in from many miles away, well before they reach you.
One evening, as I was wrestling with painful feelings, I decided to step outside to get some air, and realized one of the dark, massive, churning clouds I had been watching all day had finally descended upon us.
Before I went to sleep that night, I wrote this poem:
Another Hour Has Blown Away
The heat expands over me
as the sun beats down.
Fans turn their blades to keep me cool.
My heart contracts within me
I am breathing through the pain
as the weather starts to turn.
And just as I step outside,
wondering how I’ll get through the next hour
I see a shadow growing on the horizon
as though being exorcised from the Earth by the sun’s rays.
The darkness expands over me,
a monstrous, churning cloud bank,
and the rain is unleashed
carried in on fierce winds
the drops hitting the roof of my bus so hard
it sounds like ice.
I run to get back inside
though the wind pushes against me,
and tries to wrench the door from its hinges.
Once inside, I wait
feeling my tiny home shudder
watching cardboard boxes and paint brushes
scurry over the driveway
heedless of a destination.
And before I know it,
another hour has been blown away.
Thanks for reading this, and I hope you are well…