sigh to breathe

[honeydumplin]

Oh liaison, on wayward storm
those auburn skies
still tempered, calm;
Both gain, or gone, now
even soar me with
the pang of thunder's roar.

Low jettison, high undertow
pull head, push back
so warmth doth charm;
That air whose dry,
permits the rain, and stirs
growth given in
valleys under

clouds.