nice summer rain with occasional lightning and the wind is blowing the trees

uncomfortable in my own skin
it tugs and pulls
pinches in the middle
not even the right shade
red, blotchy, ill-fitting
my skin

leaves
blowing in the wind
catch on the gate

the river path winds quietly except for birds' flutter
nary a sound, nary a mutter

dead brown leaves is what you see
I see dried herbs in a vase for me