lacking

the fields sway and dance

white clouds, dark blue, shining sun

yet lacking something.

grass now wilting

soil cracks, thirst unquenched

fleeting leaves and unending ravines

winds once graceful now cold

blowing away the sands

blazing sun setting

the empty dark fills cerulean,

cerulean bleeding, falling—

flooding, filling crevices

eroding the rocks in

creeks and streams roaring

i was there. under the rain.

obfuscated by the misty drops

a blinding streak lights the night

it floats down, forking, branching

its wrath, punctuated

by its cackle, earth trembling—

it strikes.

from white, then dark.

long after the squall

the waking light breathes color into blackness

i gaze upon the scarred ground

grass battered, drowned, crushed

the roots cling to soil upheaved

water drips down into

puddles, muddled, disheveled

i look:

the sun veiled by clouds that

paint the sky in gray

the meadow sways not, and

lies still, in silence.

nothing is lacking; nothing remains

of the field of green.