I know the clouds


An orange glow is lit behind the gray
And no rain comes,
but I smell it in the distance,
screaming
And I still remember the meaning
of every formation and
coloration,
because I learned meteorology
as a child.
I wanted to chase all my fears
like tornadoes
until they spun out of control
and became obsessions,
or tore down the walls
revealing the foundation.
Sometimes
in these slow days
I like to imagine
I'd still succeed at tornado-chasing,
But most times
I just wind up cowering in my bedroom
staring at the clouds
waiting for the rain.