Out of a darkly bruised sky
clouds hanging like
rotted plums, bruised and ripe.
Crows like harpies crest the wind;
leap-winged avengers.
A widening gap
the incandescent flame
of the hesitant sun
breaking in a glory of
burnished chemical reaction.
Gloom sulks in a
back corner of the sky
crouching, like a leopard
preparing to strike.
Suddenly a lake's ransom
of strident, gushing rain
pounds the landscape below;
vengeful opposition
to the sun's entitlement.
c. 2009 Rita Rosenfeld
No comments:
Post a Comment