the blue muse

Last night I sat outside and watched a storm roll in, a storm that was supposed to be a bad one, and indeed, the sky turned black and the wind turned vicious and the birds sounded their own sharp warning.

I sat there and wondered why I never grow tired of the sky.

Thunder rumbled its way into the distance, and then the rain came, dropping words to the ground all around me.

Tomorrow’s flowers, every color of the rainbow, washing the dust of life away.

I sat there and told myself I would always remember that moment, but I know I won’t.

It will melt into a melange of all the other nights of storm watching, garden gazing, summer loving, sky worship.

Each one of them perfectly delicious.