Low skies surrounding surrounding mountains
seem haze-sultry in desert morning light,
then drown delight. Weary fight -- misplaced men
sign dignity away, Monsoon in sight.

Low clouds shadow shadowed promises wept,
no hurry spent; awkward acknowledgement
of arid tears below -- bent heaven kept
its voice too low; beseeching only meant

Man’s grace had fled. Arriving storm, aghast,
took its last chance and thundered words of woe
with fears of letting go of sky blue caste,
which paled ignited lightning’s afterglow.

Surrounding shadows shadow sultry haze,
Monsoon, again, retreats from longing gaze.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 6/24/04