to look up

the boiling under-cloud stares black

a roiling ash grey shroud glares back

this is the sky inside that hovers

prep the volley from on high

send down the forked bolts

raise up the hackles on our necks

while the wind roars with indignation

at upstaging nimbus corsairs

that loom above the spinning crying currents

see Zephyr waltz with Ouranos

while Gaia sulks in the mist

castdown wallflower washed in another’s passion