Posts Tagged ‘weather’

Thunder sings in

its tremulous language. Rain pours

down like oh-so-many tears.

If only

it would crystallize

like I wish my thoughts would.

 

Observation is

more of a ceaseless,

thankless occupation

whose rewards are never seen

by the observer- the one who records.

 

Blue-gray clouds never scrutinize.

Not the way

the observer does.

Summers is here and the sun bares down.

I could impress upon people the value of rain-

silver fingers drumming, the sky without frown-

but they see it as a pain,

something to avoid. I would dance in it,

but instead I sit

inside and read poetry. When I was young

I would open my mouth to the rain

the way any other child would catch snowflakes on his tongue,

and I would spin for raindrops and drink them in.

Summer people watch the moon wax and wane.

On bright mornings I wince at the sun

and whisper you win.

Life stretches toward both horizons

The dog excitedly barks at children across the street

Wind stirs curtains, leaves

Spruce branches sway like green tentacles

Birds peel their old plumage and blow their flutes

The robin inflates its heart

Clouds coalesce and disperse like cottonwood seeds

Sky opens and closes its perforated maw

Hours are marked by color and the sun’s position

Rain falls

Horns blare

Sprouts greenly fork out of soil

Wind ebbs and flows

Flowers brighten

Each horizon darkens to be lit again

Susceptible to Change-

like the weather-

is this land I roam;

great Fields of Heather,

 

boiling Seas of Grass,

Earth like planks of Wood,

Woods bursting upward-

each tree bears a hood.

An assemblage of clouds observes.

Listen. There’s applause

just for you!

A blessing from silver skies

says, “you’re appreciated.”

Let the many small hands

strike the walls and window-glass.

It’s all for you!

The clouds praise with rain,

their way of saying,

“you’re wonderful.”

Yellow fingers sweep the clouds away,

extend to brush my skin-

I feel the gentle, warm caress.

The world illuminates:

houses, fields, trees, lakes brightened.

Snow dissipates, ice dwindles in drips,

both glint all the same.

Here is the change

as everything wakes from cold slumber

and will stir into flower and fervor.

The Sun climbs, each day,

over some unseen Hill.

Ascent warms the Land- then-

Descent brings a chill.

The Intonation- of the Wind-

scraped against my Ear-

but what Fortune that it was

the Last thing I would Hear-

Sympathy of Nature

is such a far fetched thing.

We think we see it

in Sunlight,

but this is merely a Consequence

of Revolutions-

this Spring.

In this whiteness there is desolation.

Ferocity abounds while ice plummets

to where a birdwatcher would make his or her observation.

But now the snow plunges into summits,

hiding landscape from humans at their windows.

All one can see are tiny white comets,

and in this instant, that is all one can know.