I’ve been finding that my pseudo-daily walks up the driveway and back at work have been a good time to ponder the weather, and decided to try to be a bit more concerted than usual in choosing poetry topics: a set of weather poems. I feel like “weather” may be a bit trite, but I was inspired and decided to try my hand at it all the same. And these are actually more or less about what they say they are!
One you’ve already read on this blog:
When the dawn washes over everything
that early morning yellow
And the breeze blows blue through my window
waking the curtains with their yawning rustle,
The mother mourning dove coos her soft
foggy song and
Our world is drenched freshly in diamond water.
Prism clear, the day has been rubbed in crayon;
Children’s blue and green and yellow.
The breeze washes away any flaw, and the Sun
warms all the chills and aches of the world away
making us all the singing birds in the trees.
The summer drizzle breathes in my window,
a cool, wet wind smelling of nature’s bathtime.
A doe rests calmly in the seed-scented hair of the field,
watching through the mist as — drip drip drip
from the leaves, my verdant roof.
Pine drifts across from tall sentinels,
the smell freshly washed and hung in the air,
wet green laundry hung to dry.
Heat haze hovers round
That lazy humming stillness
Porch weather, long grass weather
the sweat of the Earth,
before the rainstorm breaks
Life hums, I am become a grasshopper—
bowing my hard green carapace under the sun.
The fan, the AC, the bugs in the field
even the corn hums
its stilling rasp against itself.
We are all waiting.
I really like John Updike’s “The Blessing” as a portrayal of a thunderstorm (though I’m not sure his last two lines contribute much). Still, if I’m going to do weather I should try my own take on a thunderstorm shouldn’t I?
The thunder rolls onward,
A huge sound, and black; shaken tin—
the air picks up and tingles
with magic and excitement,
prophecy in its breath.
The leaves speak of stilled, moving anticipation.
Vast across the plains, drenched in rain
bursting suddenly in its love for the earth.
Power; the sound of earth and sky mating.
I’ve already posted a poem about this inspiration but it wasn’t about the weather so I’m doing another take on that.
Feathers in the air,
filtering through the sunbeams;
whirling their snowy dance around me.
Cousins to the great icicles
and the heavy-flowing waters
so serious at my feet,
they laugh and wrap me up
keeping these secrets,
in silence and warmth.
Reading through these together, I’m realizing that they are serving as a substitute for my camera – some days I may not have my camera or may be too distracted by experiencing the excursion to stop and take photos, but I can remember the feeling of what I saw and felt long afterwards. In some cases I think the camera may not capture the experience I had in any case, where words can do it better justice.
the rain in the night shhh’s down
cloaking my sheltering tent home
plunk! plunk! plunk!
What weather am I missing that I still need to write about?