Category: weather/storms
-
Wood Priest
09/29 – meditation morning walk before hurricane storms Carolina shore: temperature drops tree tops talk nervously speak only of summer distant storm unmentioned like soldiers before battle some won’t make it you look around try to remember how they laughed before the storm 9-29-22
-
haiku for an overcast day
basking in half-light no frog or heron in sight lone lily blooms white 9-27-25
-
Rain
Morning rain rattles in gutters and drains, washes the street, pushes tired leaves from limbs, resuscitates thirsty moss. Somewhere offshore a hurricane spins, spawns riptides, pulls sand from beaches, keeps disappointed tourists inside. The forecast says the storm will miss us. But other storms more dangerous than this gather out where we can’t see. While…
-
Waiting for a pie fight
Sunrise 36, rain is forecasted for 10 am. Before buckets fall from atop the door in this Three Stooges movie, you get your walk in. An hour before noon, you peek out the windowblind disappointed that it hasn’t rained. 12-20-22
-
Spinning toward munchkin town
(“For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.” Hosea 8:7) I don’t care if sowers of anger, inherit a whirlwind. They can reap what they sow. But a storm front has no discernment, no sense of justice; it roars across the landscape and spins until it is spent. Sowers of the wind…
-
Rain watcher
no dog walkers, no tennis players, no rim rattling gamers, birds and leaf blowers have all gone silent tires slap wet pavement, carpets of clouds rub together, static electric tympani rumbles overhead, wet snare drum plays in the trees Carol watches the Weather Channel, I sit on our porch watching the rain, wishing I’d cleaned…
-
Growing a tree
If leaf and root learn to amiably communicate they may understand one another the leaf could gather more light to feed the root and prepare the tree to survive the coming storm and save them all 5-14-23
-
after the snowcalypse haiku
Outside my window Sun melts last patches of snow I’m okay with that 1-25-25
-
the Monday after June 29th
The woods is strangely Quiet this morning No insect drone Few birds calling from the bush Dog on the corner Barks at anything that moves Maybe it’s the heat Maybe it’s the coming storm Distance owl calls Who? Who? 7-3-23
My husband's poetry 