Storm Approaches
Storm approaches.
The dark sky closes in.
The trees stand still and huddle,
closing ranks, but
it keeps on coming. Soon
they’ll be flapping about,
trying to beat it off.
The Storm Closes
The storm closes,
and sits right on top of the trees
which now begin to toss.
Behind them, though, the sky
glows through the branches
with patches of
strange white light.
Stretching High
Stretching high
on slender stem,
the tree almost floats,
almost flies
in the wild, wide sky.
I straighten, and take
a deep breath in,
feeling as if
the tree is breathing.
The Clouds Around the Sun
The clouds around the sun,
which reveal and frame it,
seem to be pointing forward.
‘Excelsior!’ they seem to cry.
‘Onward! Upward!’ they call
across the expanding sky.
The Sun Falls
The sun falls
down onto the tops
of the waiting hills,
into the gullies and crevices
with a crash of resounding light
that flares up and widens
and bursts,
and goes black.
The prompt today at dVerse Poetics, is Micro/Macro — to write a micro-poem of 140 characters, not counting spaces, about a macro-photo. I decided to do several. The titles, added merely for identification, also don't count in the number of characters. The photos are my own, of my corner of the world, which I never tire of recording. Unfortunately I completely misunderstood the term macropoetry! My next post attempts to get closer to the idea.
