The juxtaposition of placid surroundings and inner turmoil, like the wet flu season in a dry winter or the pleasant blue Californian skies that mask the crisis of a drought, underlying.

dry winter storm

dry winter holds a storm inside

day after dead, blue skies stretch on

chaos theory gains another mile

to dismantle your season

shattering reason

like a ripped tea bag your scripted pages scatter misspent

loose shake discontent

inner storm billows to form a head and bleeds

as outside weather reaches a moderate 60 degrees

nothing can explain this inner devil, while the outside mocks with equanimity

batter of insider raining makes it no longer possible to hold secure

no railing, so you slips and you shrinks down an unruly detour

of an inner storm raging while blue skies taunt

and grey implodes into a tight fitted knot

stilts of broken furniture float, sinking

inner frame soaked, broken bowls leaking

warped floors wobble your steps tempted

self is disconcerted, disconnected

reduced to a pulsing dry tread

blowing from a flagpole by a thread…

secret cocoon is the place to be!

surrender to the tempest and incubate slowly

ride the waves and conserve

fight for life with the most gentle verve

and when your rheumy eyes can hold a gaze, and you begin to stand on waterlogged legs

storm pulses quiet, like part of your rhythm

driven by waves that carry you to sharp sand schism

where you meet a cup of tea, with the bag intact

encounter a room, peaceful like

you slog around, flood at your ankles slows your stride

sweep broken plans into the trusty dustpan tide

collect yourself into ordered embrace after your loss at sea

patter among the old growth of your living room reality

and hang in peace, your bilious weeks out to dry

in the thirsty California sky

Art Courtesy of Sarah Curtiss, see more of Sarah's art at

Art Courtesy of Sarah Curtiss, see more of Sarah’s art at