Rain pouring outside,
all the plants and trees dripping;
she inside the house
crying uncontrollably —
the sky is dark this morning.
*******************************
Life on an island:
always boats, always fishing,
boats and the salt air ...
ocean breezes whipping up
waves to swamp the unwary.
4/5/10
Our morning began
lazy together in bed
and we were happy.
But later, when we arose,
so did worry, so did strife.
11/5/10
The mirror reflects
palm fronds outside in the breeze
against a blue sky
and me in my bed waking
to soft rippling leaves through glass.
18/5/10
This morning of rain
the lone geranium bloom
is drooping right down,
its pink as bright as ever
but for how much longer now?
I was planning to write
a poem about that flower,
about its proud height
deceived by a warm autumn
into bloom, but that’s over.
Autumn is ending.
The rain has made the leaves plump.
Some plants reacted
as in Spring, and flowered bright
briefly. Now the chill begins.
(A discipline for myself, since I couldn’t leave it at one piece,
was to write these three so that each could stand alone too.)
some days it's like being in the bed is the best part. nostalgia being in everything after the rude awakening of foot to floor.
ReplyDeletesome days the spirit is full of thunderstorms, with or without the analogous weather but when the skies cry too, there's a consistency at least. no counterpoint, no irony, no disagreement from the sky.
Pearl, your comment is a poem in itself!
ReplyDeletethe time as i feel is what changes it all... the rain, the togetherness, the flowers the change of seoson... TIME is the all governing.
ReplyDeleteThe way look at things changes with time
Perceptive comment, Anonymous, and very true.
ReplyDelete