There are days
When I try
To write a poem without the sky.
Not that the sky went away.
It just likes
To prompt my say.

There are days when snow and ice
Guide my pen,
With winter spice,
That gives credence a verse—
Kind of like a blessing-curse.

And then some days
Thunder booms
And lightning flashes
Through the rooms
Of my mind where words
Are stored—
NATURE! NATURE!
My reward!