I, the Weather Vane

Andrew Nelson
Sep 2, 2018 · 1 min read

A free-form Poem

I, the weather vane, spin and spin

The wind twirling my metallic form to and fro

An Iron Whirling Dervish atop a humble home

I seek comfort in the coming of the storm

As the sun’s warmth fades, I rise

Upon the spirt of the swollen clouds

Thunderous claps disturbing atoms in the air

Still I spin round and round

An electric hand reaching down

From heaven to the fertile earth

What once was green is now alive with flame

And still I am untouched

“Strike me!” I cry, to the wild darkened sky

“Melt me down!” my liquid body dripping on the dirt

Soon I feel electrons in my midst

A loud buzzing in the ether

I am blinded by radiance

And expect to find myself no more

But still I turn and turn

A weather vane atop a humble home

Andrew Nelson

Written by

Hi! I’m a young writer born in Texas, but currently living in Washington. My main topics of interest are theology and poetry, but I also enjoy short stories.