Burning Down the Sky

The last couple of days have been full of tough feelings of the heart kind and the body kind, and I don't even have the words. But I will say this about my drive home from some work meetings at sunset yesterday.

I Said "17 a Day" But I Didn't Say 17 of What 

Damn this sky tonight making 
Me want to open up my veins 
And bleed neon orange pink

Hitch yer wagon to a dyin' star

Haiku for Freezing Temperatures in This Week's Forecast

Only trouble is,
When your soul's like autumn leaves,
Be prepared to die.

Oh, the humanity.

I can make even spring sound depressing.

I think this is the seed (see what I did there?) of what will be a longer poem about how growth is also loss, how there is a grieving that comes with any change, a moment of giving up the potential for the actualization of the thing. But because I am afraid of writing nature poetry, I will have to badass it up with swears. Because, as we have shown, that is how that is done.

Mourning the tight seed
What is this tender chaos
Sprung from a dark bed?