On days like these with thunderclouds

            held on the horizon by some unseen force

And the chilly April wind blowing

            the thin sunshine in my face

My mind travels to windswept deserts, solitary

            mountain peaks and the smell of sagebrush.

To abandoned cabins, rusty tin cans

            and remnants of life forgotten.

I take a moment to be lonely, I owe it to myself.

 

                                                Sally Cohen