reflections on a summer evening.
The evening clouds outside my window
Promise cooling rain later in the evening
But right now from my point of view,
They are not patterned as big fluffy animals
Or fun shaped cars or even cotton candy,
But dirty black-rimmed cotton balls,
Much like some dark-painted makeuped face
Had scrubbed off layers of paint
To reveal the hidden skin beneath
And the pattern God had given them,
Then the thunder rolls.