I stopped the chide
against cloudy skies
dropped into the river basin
dug out by ancient glaciers.
This is the place of safety from the world
of western fires
of eastern floods
of northern blizzards
of southern tornadoes.
In the middle we lie low
where clouds settle un-seamed
to protect us from extremes.
I miss the sun.
The sun is fun
until it rapes the atmosphere
stripping it bare
Clouds clothe the Ohio Valley.
I welcome clouds’ embrace.
annarino writes 