When I come home

When the sky turns pink and orange,
The river swells its angry bosom.
The wind dances to its own mad tune,
Whirling leaves and dust merrily like dancers.
The trees nodding their heads to the invisible tune.
The cool wind lifts my hair, lifts my very soul.
Dousing out the fire within--a kiss of peace.
When the rains lash the outskirts of the city,
Rippling waves on grass and water alike.
As the wind rips and the water washes.
Tears flow free finally and I come home.