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.
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
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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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