It's Still Life

The Weather of Me

hail on the roof,
wind worrying the trees,

leaves torn loose
without apology,

and I remember
how I walked.

never the easy path.

always the one
that cut,
that asked,
that took its due
in small relentless ways.

I would still choose it now,

quickly,

and wear its lessons
like a dare.

it made a weather of me

that does not break
at the first storm.

there is a wisdom
earned only
by standing in it

and staying.

Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.