The first rainfall cleanses,
bringing drowsiness.
Following showers grow
the land gives thanks.
Continued storms flood
flashfloods kill.
This is not the slippery slope I was taught in school.
One thing should not lead to death.
This is the cause and effect of nature
at its best.
The unpredictability of something beautiful
or treacherous.
It should be praised while feared.
Our story was quite different.
You don’t get to come in and rain down on my life
if you are not helping me grow.
There are a billion different versions of an umbrella
floating surfaces to climb upon
to save myself.
You don’t get to flood futures, kill dreams.
The rainbow always comes.
It arches across damp blue skies
each ribbon of color overlapping the other
connecting country to city
people to people.
They stop their cars on sides of roads
strangers, together in awe.
My skies are blue. Not a cloud for miles.
– Breelyn Shelkey
blue skies all the time
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