A free-verse poem.
Florida morning has many faces.
Sometimes it is sunny,
with skies of crystal blue, or
dotted with puffs of marshmallow clouds
Sometimes it is stormy,
with skies covered in a cloak of gray,
heavy with rain and rumbling from thunder.
Sometimes it is quiet,
the air is still and heavy.
Already too hot and humid
for even the birds and bugs.
Sometimes it is noisy,
a chorus of birds greeting their neighbors
and winter time visitors.
The drone and buzz of insects
accompanies this conversation.
Sometimes it is cool,
the rain having stopped
or slowed to a soft drizzle.
The rain flickers in and out,
sometimes heavy and sometimes light.
Sometimes the cool rain stays all day.
Others days it gives a short shower
before darting away.
Sometimes it is hot.
Those days where even the fall of night
can barely cool the heat.
Where the air is so thick,
you could cut it with a knife.
You spend the day chasing
even the barest hint of a breeze.
One watches the skies and
prays for rain to bring welcome relief.
Sometimes it wears one face for all day.
Sometimes it changes from one to another,
giving you the full range of its faces
before the day is done.
It's hard to say, what which one you will get.
But it is always something different,