in the morning light
platinum tinges the sky
the warm air grows still
birdsong fades away
crickets' and peepers' voices
vanish like ripples
platinum turns gray
grass, leaves whisper their worry
leaden clouds grumble
a sliver of light
slashes a cut in the clouds
brilliant yet fleeting
the leaden clouds roar
the sky squalls and cries in a
wild temper tantrum
grass and leaves press flat
wind and water pound their fists
beating the hard ground
then like a spoiled child
the sudden tantrum passes
lead turns to azure
the child leaves his toys
grass and leaves scattered and torn
leaves to play elsewhere
crickets and peepers
and birds raise their song as they
await the next game
--2001
No comments:
Post a Comment