Between Bruises and Blooms

The sky begins with whispered threats,
A bruise beneath the summer blue.
The prairie holds its quiet breath,
As if it somehow always knew.

The wheat bows low before the wind,
The poplars shiver, leaves turned white.
Far away, a rumble rolls—
The heartbeat of the coming night.

Then heaven tears itself apart,
Silver veins across the sky.
Thunder shakes the windows loose,
A giant’s echo passing by.

The rain arrives in heavy drums,
Beating stories into earth.
Dust becomes the scent of home,
A promise of the prairie’s worth.

For just a while, the world stands still.
Phones go quiet, worries cease.
We gather close to watch the storm,
Finding chaos dressed as peace.

And when the darkest clouds have passed,
The western sky begins to glow.
A rainbow stretches over fields,
Where rivers of sunlight gently flow.

That is Manitoba—
Wild enough to make you fear,
Beautiful enough that every storm
Leaves you wishing it stayed near.