Adrift

 

Scattered clouds of yesterday 

adrift in the evening sky ~

gilded by tonight’s setting sun.

“The sky and the sun are always there. 

It’s the clouds that come and go.”

~ Rachel Joyce,  

The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy

When We Look

Recalling each moment past

is no easier than stopping 

the flow of water whether 

 river, lake or ocean with

trees lining their banks 

  dipping their branches low 

shelters for birds and 

   our memories

Watching clouds in the sky 

 ~ moving vessels of memory 

 golden at sunset 

    or red at sunrise

   clouds of white puffs, 

  storm clouds filled 

    with thunder and lightning

Recalling each yesterday when we look.

“Memory is not frozen it’s very much alive, it moves, it changes.”

~ Louis Malle, film director

(1932~ 1995)

Storm: Refreshed

Thin morning clouds 

hovered and grew 

Thunder muttered 

Rain spattered then

poured in sheets

Fragments of blue sky 

peered through ~

gone in an instant

air fragrant with moisture

Evening clouds 

ride high and spent.

“I love the smell right after a storm.”

~ Elijah Wood

Storm

Clouds thick and lowering

Thunder rolling across the city

Flicker and flash of bright lightning

Trees lashed about by unruly winds

Rain bucketed straight down, 

    undeterred by wind

Drains stopped by stray leaves,

My red clogs splashed to clear them

   reached with a long poled squeegee

Tonight calm, damp and cool.

“I can hear your whisper and distant mutter. 

I can smell your damp on the breeze and

 in the sky I see the halo of your violence. 

Storm I know you are coming.”

~ Robert Fanney, 

(Author of science fiction and fantasy)

Vestiges of Yesterday's Storm

June 16, 2525

Today  

 Arrogant puffed up clouds 

  roamed the skies 

sunshine glanced 

  through 

patches of blue, 

 

Grey undersides 

  reminded

of their promise.

Vestiges of yesterday’s storm 

  wandered 

    gathered 

Rain splashes

   abruptly, 

at their whim.

Evening air 

  cold ~ damp 

refreshing

Even now

 thunder grumbles 

in the distance

“There is peace even in the storm.”

~ Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

Author’s note:  I did not get a photograph of today’s skies, 

but located this photo from June 16, 2025.

Brain Fog

It was clearer today 

as though a gust of wind 

had brushed aside 

gathering cobwebs ~ 

flinging them into 

muttering thunderclouds,

washing it clean in 

raindrops and cool air.

“Sometimes it all gets a little too much, but 

you gotta realize that soon the fog will clear up.”

~ Shawn Mendes, singer, song-writer

Storm Warnings

Over the wires

Balcony cleared

    ~~~

Clouds gather 

Yellow sky 

Air smells of rain

   ~~~

Energy tightens

My body thrills

“Then the storm broke, and the dragons danced.”

~ George R.R. Martin, “Fire & Blood”

Strength

When clouds bubble up 

from behind the roof tops,  

I wonder if somewhere 

there is a thunderstorm or 

if they are just sitting 

quietly gathering strength. 

From the distance land to sky 

I can only wonder. 

When I work the muscles of my body, 

I feel the soft strength that is me. 

Guy wires that move my frame 

as though I were a puppet and 

I, the puppeteer. I can only wonder 

what will allow me to gather strength.

“It feels good pulling on these muscles, 

it feels better than worrying about who is watching.”

Alain Bremond-Torrent, author

Supper Line

The clouds rippled ~

flung over the church 

like a gigantic table cloth. Pigeons, lined up on the church roof, 

awaited their evening meal, 

sitting politely unless 

another tried to push in, 

letting newcomers know 

they would not let 

just anyone in for supper.

“Charity is not like feeding pigeons in the square. 

It is a process that requires professional management.”

~ Roman Abramovich, businessman

Blue Sky Poetry

Azure or cobalt,

sapphire or royal

Wrap around our world blue

save for errant clouds hiding 

in mountains and forests

or traveling carpets of water 

off to parts unknown....

Today at the bus stop I had time to look. 

The clear blue sky, leafless trees reaching 

into the void. Tall office buildings, straight edged, 

diminished by the grandeur of the sky, 

mere cutouts on the ball of dust that we stand on.

The magnitude of the morning sky 

and our tiny lives was not lost on me. 

We have it all arranged in roads and sidewalks, 

squared off fields and plantings. 

The night time sky shows only a hint 

of the myriad of planets, stars and galaxies 

that spin and revolve in the space past the sky

We discuss and plan, build and tear down 

but in the end the beautiful sky is over us all.

“I never get tired of the blue sky.”

~ Vincent van Gogh