A face in the clouds

whether the weather be hot or whether the weather be not

With the creak of a worn out
weathervane, wind chimes warn us.
As a dream catcher dances on the porch,
fields flatten under unseen footsteps,
barn doors are forced to slam and splinter.

Branches reach through shattered glass
to scatter children like minnows 
gathered in by bigger fish,
they wait and hide at the bottom.

The chewed up piles of wooden towns
spat broken with unearthly growls.
With every Jekyl a Mr Hyde,
rage is tempered over time. 

As venom leaves the black veined skies,
our monsters face thins out.
A warmer blue, a smile that’s viewed
through tinted shade and dappled leaf
to cloud itself in shifting forms, 
a summer breeze forgets the storm.