Surveyor of the Storm
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SURVEYOR OF THE STORM
Today’s early afternoon is somber-gray.
Red, white, blue, cherry willow, stars.
A single lightning bolt, in downward zigzag,
striking, alongside the bark of a crépe myrtle.*
Loose leaves sliding down oil-slicked street.
Goodnight skies rise into the light.
Verve-quake of thunder. I saw clouds rise and fall,
flutter by. Chimes and metallic owls, mirrors and bells
keep those pesky ‘peckers at bay, but will they survive
if the wind takes them away? (They did)
Yesterday’s moonlight
will be drenched behind midnight-clouds.
Spectacular sun-days orchestrate Spring hues
as wings splish-splosh in flooding bath tubs.
Well, I imagine so…
as faith remains.
3/25/2021
Non-rhyming couplets
*striking used as adj. here
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2021
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