Fretful

Another housecleaning poem.

Fretful

Those high thin clouds blow in
pushing at the pale sun
Then the thunderheads roll across the sky
stacked up and moving fast.
When a blue hole opens in the clouds
it’s quick covered over
in big impatient swipes
by the restless gray wind
because it was a mistake.
The heavy sky reels out
anxiety
along a line of lightning strikes
where it snaps like
the sheet on a clothesline
someone forgot to take in
before a storm

“Rain Cycle”

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8 thoughts on “Fretful

  1. I have thought the same thing. I see many reflections of my own thinking and feeling in your work. I would welcome you any time you are in the Philadelphia area! I would say we might meet otherwise, but I realize I am not sure where you live! To me you are so familiar, that sounds funny to say that I can’t “locate” you when of course I can – right here in my computer!?

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