Apocalypse Clouds

Pleasure comes from disturbing sources.

She never felt scared. Lightning flashing, thunder booming, hail doing a frantic tap dance on the roof. “Thunderstorms are our friends,” thought Sarah. Dark clouds finally ended their downpour.

Daddy taught us the rain brings life. Our small home farm produced enough vegetables for every meal. Good soil with the right nutrients, the secret to healthy plants with happy yields.

He made it fun. Add just enough nitrogen. We constantly made organic compost and provided a drink of water early in the morning and just before sundown. You have to get your watering right in Florida. The heat and humidity can kill your plants fast without the right amount of drink.

We performed a rain dance every morning during droughts. My sister and I giggled until we rolled on the ground. The funny ceremonies before school bring fond memories.

This year the crops are bringing forth abundantly. I know the fertilizer mix is just right. Too bad Dad and Sis aren’t here to see.

Kicking around in the rows of kohlrabi yesterday I noticed recent rains have washed away a bit too much topsoil. Have to cover up the erosion.

Then I saw it. My new plot wrecked. Shoveling and leveling the 20 ft by 15 ft rectangle of dirt took 3 days.

So, I’m fixing the dirt today. Mom is here. She’s pale and silent.

“Oops, sorry Mom didn’t mean to step on your metatarsals.” I throw some soil to cover her feet. I like to get my hands in the dirt. Connects me with the earth.

“Let’s get you covered up right.”

Shovel blades make great bone breaking tools. Mom’s rib cage shattered like old porcelain. The tomatoes and jalapenos are going to thrive in this soil. Mom always was a giver.

I love to sit on my porch and drink sun made iced tea after hard work. Getting Mom broken up and covered again wore me out.

My family is full of such wonderful providers. Our happy backyard farm is so sweet and full of lives and happy yields.

Skull Death Fossil from Pixabay

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.

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