Days

Sometimes she’s a wildfire, raging through the night.
Some days she’s a winter storm, ice and fury unleashed.
Sometimes she’s a shadow, not fully here or really there.
Some nights she’s more familiar than my bedroom wall,
and sometimes she’s a stranger, beyond my words to call.
Some mornings she blows in, fresh as spring’s first breeze.
Sometimes she’s untamable, tumultuous as storm-tossed seas.
Some days I hold her close, as her world starts to come undone.
Sometimes we fit together and I feel like I belong.