When the Sky Falls

Water turns to snow and the earth begins its glow.

A blanket swaddles the earth, except cold and not of the hearth.

We animals seek refuge inside. Afraid of summer’s winter bride.

Waiting, we try to survive. Only some are able to thrive.

They are those who dealt with the froze.

They are those who find the first rose. 



Illinois Mountains

The flatland has mountains too.

You just can’t see them,

you can only feel them.

The mountains, they come in waves.

Sometimes nonstop,

other times not so much.

Very rarely are they quiet, the mountains.

Sometimes a low drone,

other times a screaming whine.

They, the mountains, are always cold and rarely warm.

Sometimes chilling to the bone,

other times cooling sweat.

The flatland has mountains too, I say.

You just can’t look upon them,

you can only be within them.