Big Sky Country

So I live along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and I often find myself deeply in awe and inspired by the sky here. Some of the most beautiful skies are when there is trouble heading your way. You can see it a mile away but it is what it is and there's nothing you can do about it. It needs to come and it needs to happen. This entry is my feeble attempt at poetry and at capturing some of the inspiration from those skies. If it's crap (which, I grant, it totally might be for you keen poetry buffs), sorry. But I do hope it makes you feel something which is basically the point of poetry in my mind.

Big Sky Country

Big. Wide. Gorgeous. Blue.
Full of crystalline possibilities.

Anvils building, grey folding upon grey.
Deeper, darker, more menacing.
The electric energy shoots through the air.
The promise of a complete deluge hangs everywhere.
The smell of rain tingles in my nose.

I do not fear the blackness.
The threat thrills me,
And energizes my soul.

A clear thought strikes me in the gathering storm,
All trials have their purpose.
Fire. Wind. Rain. Pain.
All offer up an exquisite and deep cleansing,
A way to renew the world.
I embrace the grief, the sorrow, the pain.
I collect each tear, and absorb each fear riddled thought:
"you can't possibly do this"
"what if this is as good as it gets?"
Just as the parched soil greedily absorbs the rain.
I feel it. I accept it. I examine it all.
Letting it cleanse, change, and reinvigorate me.
Life begins again.