Some thoughts are like the pressure in a storm
They fill my house, my head
Until my temple throbs
I turn off the lights, crank the A/C
Wish for release as it pounds
Then I wake, content and unaching
Cool against the sheets
Birds outside the window
Nothing left of the storm but puddles on the deck chairs
I tilt them and the water splashes below
They’ll dry on their own
They always do
With Love,
Natalie