Tag Archives: storms

WAITING FOR THE STORM

Early spring garnish
before a mid-March rain,
wild colors claiming

lush shades of green
that cattle finish grazing
by eight o’clock.

Everybody feels
what’s coming,
despite the sunshine—

despite the rattling
of sabers
from would-be kings.

NATIVES

 

I look to the ridges for clarity,

for a sign of an approaching storm

gathering somewhere north—

 

trace silhouetted skeletons

of drought-killed oaks, branched

like Challenge Butter bucks.

 

As my eyes escape the first waft

of chaos and claustrophobe,

I leave my flesh to rest among

 

all the old cowmen with nothing to do

but watch the learning process

over and over again.

 

The Natives retreated to the hills,

but at the top of mountain peaks,

there’s no place left to go.

 

SOUTH EASTERN HORIZON

 

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With wild imagination, the sky
speaks in colors and contortions
before storms settle in the mountains,

as gray clouds scout a trail to camp,
a granite peak to rest upon,
run aground, snow and rain.

Three score years plus
of looking up—and away,
daydreaming fleeting poetry

even as a child out the window
of a forced nap—another tongue
with no letters in its language,

only colors and shapes
from every perspective,
no two the same.

 

ALWAYS MOMENTS

 

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On the weather map
watching the storm slide
slowly down the Sierras,

a green right arm wraps
around San Jose,
counterclockwise,

headed toward this warm
midsection, and I wonder:
with an upper cut of cold?

—wet inch down already,
as if the gods are on a mission
to treat us squarely—

as if there is a plan
to anything,
or just random rolls

we learn to adjust to
moment after moment
never seen before!