Paul Willason Poet Free verse

The Sigh

It started with dry leaves 
pirouetting around
the yard on the back
of a skittish breeze, 
the magnolia rubbing  
against the fence
as if scratching an itch,
a few raindrops teasing
a thirst. Then,
distant thunder. 

The sound seemed to cue 
a tightening in the core,
an instinctive brace against
what was to come. Soon,
a sudden flash… 
followed by a loud crack
and a shudder sent rolling
through the guts of every
living thing.

Wind clawed at seams,
unpicking the afternoon
to fling leaf, branch
and limb into tumbling air,
cartwheeling chairs across
the lawn. Hailstones tore 
the fragile into bite size bits, 
beheading blooms before
suddenly stopping
and crusting the ground
in a white shroud
of innocence.

It was over. An unusual quiet
let soft sounds soothe
the air - trickling water, 
the tap of weighted leaves 
shedding raindrops,
murmurings of ice melt.
I felt an easing
as if an anger within me
had been released
leaving only a sigh.

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Lin Lane January 18, 2024 at 6:15 AM “… a few raindrops teasing a thirst.” Lines like that don’t come easily to many poets. They do to you. At first, I thought you were leading into a musical soundscape of nature, which you did. However, by the end you gave your lines much more depth and meaning. Paul Willason January 19, 2024 at 4:18 AM Not sure where some of these lines originate from...crawl out of the subconscious no doubt...I think all poets are so grateful when it happens. Gratitude too for your continuing encouragement ...gives me a lift when I feel somewhat challenged. Many thanks Lin.