Tag Archives: Aine Marie Policastro

“Explosions of Mother Nature” — Aine Marie Policastro ’15

The clock strikes 12:02,
The day’s tiredness overcomes me.
My baggy, comforting sweatpants
Cradle my legs in warmth
As I climb under the orange, fuzzy covers of my bed,
eyes drifting closed as my head hits
the white cotton pillow,
my limbs starfishing across my bed
losing myself in a sea
of comforting sheets.

 

But out of the peaceful serene,
The silence is broken.
A pelting sound echoes through the room,
Splashes of water explode against the window
Next to my bed.

 

My eyes open in surprise,
To see the droplets of water rushing
Down the windowpane.
The clouds turn in shade from pure white,
To a now intense black-grey.

 

I wonder if the clouds have been overcome with anger,
Too powerful to keep it inside
Its light, fluffy body,
it must plague it,
enrage it,
forcing it to explode out in tears of frustration,
pelting against my window.
A crack of thunder echoing its raging emotions.

 

Amidst this chaos,
I am enclosed inside the comfort and oblivion
Of my blanket.
Feeling at peace with the world,
Safe from the emotions of nature.
My window now a barrier between the chaos of outside,
And the comfort of inside.
And in the midst of the chaos,
I close my eyes once again,
as the threatening thunder and pelting rain,
Now soothe me to sleep.