A collection of my writing

Ode to Weather

The sting of the
Ozone before the rain.
The smell of fresh after.
The mystery
Of mist in the
Dark mornings,
Scared of what
You cannot see,
Past the wall
Of suspended water.
Fire-breathing dragon
In the winter frigid air.
Blossoms, blooms, everywhere.
Color just starting
To show itself again.
Humid, cerulean-drenched skies
Long days and
Short nights
But we do not care
We just want to
Have fun,
Before the overworking
Stressed out days
Begin again.
Elegantly beautiful deaths everywhere,
So vivid and vibrant
And falling all around.
But it is typical
And always there
Till it is gone,
All on the ground,
Just to be grown again.
When the year
Has scarcely started.