The Troposphere-Weather Breeder
Life History of a Cold Front

You rolled in
clouds over the mountains
the wind before you

tossing my hair
through you fingers

slowly you started
to wet my skin
freezing it with the breeze

tempting me with sweet
hot, cold

diamonds in the trees

After the squall
I imagine myself
caught up with you

showing me
each cumulative shape

hail in my spine
electrical charges in my hair.

I do what I can
I roll over
and clap.

Copyright 2012 Julie Cummings