Autumn sky, in advanced stages of labour,

struggles, pants;

ripe with womb’s distension,

she moans,

pacing,

her anxiety and pain

threatening to overwhelm.

She has forgotten to breathe.

Between contractions,

she recalls her training;

sudden intake of lungs delivers

North Wind fury.

Together,

they bring forth a son,

and name him

Snow…

*

The sky, pregnant with snow, was surly and strange and wonderful all day today.  I could only capture the smallest portion of its wild beauty…