Silence of the Air

Mother Nature, a fine lady
of beauty, majesty, generosity,
heroism, charity, kindness, patience,
living within a view
of the outskirts of heaven,
who grants us the sun and rain;
hence the rising of the greens,
the fruits of the festive orchards,
the pictorial shadows in the forest glen,
the cottony clouds that float aloft,
the crimson horns that sound the sunset,
the still waters that smile back at the sun,
the silent air that hangs over the hills,
the too quiet air, the vacuous kind,
the nothing, the eerie silence that
waits for the impending tumultuous air
being stirred up in the witch’s brew,
the blackness that hides behind the mask,
the swirling hell that rides wild stallions,
the raping of the virginal spaces,
the graying of the once sleepy clouds
piled atop of one another about to burst,
the entwining iron tentacles of the beast
in her nervous slithering through the maze,
through the darkness of the lofted forests,
the eternal lady of the cryptic nights,
a sacrilegious priestess,
a child irresponsible of her tantrums,
the marauder who storms through the sky,
who converts heaven into a hell,
a book of revelations after the serenity,
a raping of the beauty of the earth,
a hiding behind the stillness,
a phantom awaiting the proper moment
to reveal its hedonistic charm,
that listens for the silence of the air
to make its appearance upon the earth.

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