Glancing up
at the night sky
I notice
whisper-thin clouds
racing across
the moon’s pale light .
Momentarily disoriented,
my eyes return
to the slow moving evening.
Do the clouds
know something I do not?
A quickening breeze
rustles nearby branches,
the scent of damp earth
floats along in the wind,
crickets quiet.
The storm creeps in
on soundless feet.
Reflecting. Discovering. Learning.
a spark to linger along the way
making mistakes in plain site
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This is a perfect play on the quiet before the spring storm that will come to support new life and wreck havoc as it arrives. This one is professional and worthy of publication.
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We had a strange spring thunderstorm last night, too… big lightening and long rumbling thunder. I missed going outside to feel/hear/smell/see it – your poem fills my senses!
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Like the build up and then the utter stillness of the final lines, It’s almost terrifying in quiet because of the anticipation. Well done.
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Beautiful!
I am experiencing the roar of the wind here right now, but it must be mostly above me, because I hear it more than feel it. Strange! Lovely imagery here – I can picture myself right in the scene because of your description.
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Just breathtaking personification; I agree with the comment about this being published professionally. “The storm creeps in on soundless feet.” WOW!
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I LOVE the tone of this poem!! You chose just the right words to create that hushed-wait-listen-didyouhearthat moment. Well done!
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