By guest author Vol Lindsey

The pastures burn a
brilliant green and stretch
themselves out from the
ragged fence, and over a
sultry curve of hill. In the
naked forest, tender fingers
of wind draw a light caress
along the branches of red
cedars, eager for heat,
when stamen spews pistil
with pollen so birds
can sing and bees dance.
Purple redbud and early
dogwood do Gypsy Rose Lee
behind their feathery fans in
a tense foreplay. You can
feel the shudders as arctic air
lies supine with the moist flow
of warmth from down south.
Cumulo twines with nimbus
to become one until it is
too much to bear...
Clouds burst!
Tornados spin!
Foundations shake!
The whole Earth clenches
and lies still, awash
with fertile rain.

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