the four weather women
always fight over
whose time it is
the hems of their dresses
impede on each other
as they gather
in an endless circle
they chatter and bicker
to coerce the sun dial
to shine on them
they shove each other
in their disheveled silks and threads
as their hair flows like the tides
tangles, knots and releases
one cries... one burns...
one leaves... one is still
all take and all give
yet in their own times
they all shine
as the stars that
hold their fate
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