Cumulus clouds blacken
As I lay here staring
At the underside of maple leaves
Oh sweet tempered breeze
Are you my only comfort
Before the storm?
Thank you, Sanaa!
Ah, you must live in the area at risk for the hurricane. It is good that, for a time, there is the sweet breeze before the high winds come in. I’m not sure I could write poetry when I was in the eye of such a storm!
I feel a little guilty for saying no, but I am not on the radar for the hurricane. Just a coincidence that I used a storm to represent my feelings about an imminent loss. My grandmother is not doing well. She is 97. The other day I was staring up at the sky through the branches of one of my maple trees and this small offering transpired. Thank you for your concern. Hope everyone stays safe from the real storm. 🙂
That’s frightening…to wait before the storm ~ I hope it passes quickly ~
Thanks for linking up with D’verse ~
My pleasure, as usual.
Oooh *shiver* I can almost feel the damp grass beneath you 🙂
The waiting just before break loose. We can feel the warmth, but not the joy, what an excellent way of looking at it.
Thanks so much, Bjorn.
Great expression of something tangible and important to those who are still enough to notice… I do this pretty much every morning, after my run… Thanks a lot – I felt a strong resonance with this, which feels good and affirming… With Best Wishes Scott
Thank you, Scott.
Watching this hurricane off our coast. I’m inland, but we are getting record falling rain 5 – 10 inches. Headed out this morning to help feed the horses in boot sucking mud. It’s okay I’ll get to kiss on Finn. I have a message out about the prices of prints. Sorry about your grandmother. Peace, Bev
Laughing at “boot sucking mud”, but I hope that’s as bad as it gets for you.
Thanks Beverly. 🙂
Storms can be so very big..i wonder just what might protect us from them.. a tender poem full of rich imagery
Sometimes we just have to weather them. Thank you for dropping in, Jae Rose. 🙂
Ah.. but no
and yes Hurricanes
are God’s gift to redistribute
heat so more can live
but human alone
Those contemplative moments are golden for poets. Soon the maple leaves will do their fire dance of autumnal death, & will make a cushion for your head, as naked branches will be all there is between you & the storm. Just lost my 90 year old mother-in-law this summer; never an easy time with loss.
Like the image of a pillow made of leaves.
Sorry for your loss, Glenn.
There was a feeling of quiet acceptance in your poem in spite of the brewing storm. This made me think of my mother who will be 90 this year. I’ve had more contemplations along these lines myself of late.
I interpreted this metaphorically – it speaks to so many situations. A gentle, observant, very Japanese feel to this poem.
Thank you, MarinaSofia.
Oh the consternation of the imminent. Perfectly described.
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