It is the eve of the one-year anniversary of my surgery,
freeing me from the grips of cancer
destroying my uterus and the hope of natural children.
The house is hot, my menopausal body is hot,
flashing on and off.
The swamp box is humming,
adding to the humidity,
barely effective in its efforts to cool.
monsoon clouds began their trek
up from Mexico,
pregnant in the sky awaiting to give birth on the American side,
their presence a reminder of the increasing humidity,
the annual threat of the first rains, a birthing
to make themselves known,
to let loose,
exercise their freedom from the skies—
always around the Fourth of July,
nature celebrating freedom.
As I let the dog out for her last adventures of the night,
I sit in the dark under the polka dot sky.
The breezes kick up, more signs of monsoons to come.
Tonight, winds laboring,
bringing with them
the smell of mesquite fires in the distance
sage burning, smudging the wind,
a ceremonial fire, offerings to Crow.
Perhaps he will bring the rain so badly needed.
I allow the wind and smoke to cleanse me,
purify me before marking one year,
a rebirth of sorts,
a new beginning.
2014 copyright by Katie Pifer, available at http://www.witchpetals.wordpress.com