Category: Weather

Journey to the Rain Latitudes

~ SamF

The pink clouds are a surprise.

A glowing refreshment,

Then a long exhale

Of a wearied man having trudged so long

Through dust,

Succumbed to the dull stone,

Scraped in thorns,

Pasted in stickery sweat,

To a vista:

visited before,

Briefly.

.

The slow release into newness,

And old places returning.

.

This thirst will not go,

It’s scratching, clawing,

Snatching nights,

And holding fast in the haze of dawn.

.

Give me the sweet smells of loam,

And damp leaves.

Passing edens

Languishing

In the softness of decay.

.

My long exhale,

Reprieves from these gasping anxieties,

Before I sit and listen,

To the sharpening air,

As the first water

Falls on the dry grass.

Experiencing Climate (in progress)

~ SamF

Afternoon breeze:

Throes of some beloved time

Mark this place,

Scribbling old, stale letters,

With the earth casting the scantest of shimmers.

.

Recalling its vast flatness,

Where things far gone

Seem close,

Is a breeze that weans all

From time’s pulsing song

And the golden bars of space.

.

Lazy:

Like days on end become.

.

Secretive:

Passing through leaves

And other spaces.

With barely a gesture:

Surprising in its arrival,

Fading in its passing.

Like lifting a finger

To a circling moth

And seeing another

Move along a ragged edge of focus:

Near soundless wings a flutter.

.

The breeze sits and waits

‘Til all else passes,

When it will stand and tell stories

In a hushed voice

That carries far,

Like grief and love

All mingled in the fields:

Meeting for the first time.

Placeholder for Climate observations

~ SamF

Before they change,

And become logs of numbers

Days in 2021

And how they turn

From one day, one season

Wobbling now,

In cycles of vertigo.

Straighten us,

In your eddies

Where the long sun

Hangs and plays with colors

Yes hold this for climate in poems

Not numbers

Love in the Time of Storms

~ SamF ~ Leave a comment

One evening,

The door opened to all of life,

Everyone came to visit!

Except you, choosing instead

To light the sky

Against the gesturing silhouette of a thunderstorm.

The deft lines of rain summoning afternoon

To the hills behind my old home,

Seeming so still from here,

Like looking back in time,

When we held hands,

And the world felt quiet and steady

And open,

And futures loomed distant

Shadowed in the fleeting gift of now.

Experiments in the Wind

~ SamF ~ Leave a comment
This space, outside, like past years

Came back to visit, in cheers.

Bringing choirs,

Tenors

From trees above,

To the tiniest notes of sands,

All offered from December’s firm hands.

.

You might sing new a new rhythm

To the tells of water

And full moon lullabies.

An old song,

To cast off your wishes,

Before I move along.

.

Show me paths and leeside edens,

Your voice calling, should I turn

To hear.

Bits and pieces on this wheel

Turning,

In time’s great mirror.

.

To be free from this turn,

Take me to the place!

Just outside

the now and then,

Move me

to a different pace.

.

Those melodies pulse softly now,

Of stories you read,

From behind furrowed brow.

.

In electricity of the night you bring,

Nestled softly

In the damp cradle of spring.

.

Woo us from fields afar,

Peering through sky’s great fabric,

Of tatters and thread,

Let me in,

Return me to bed.

Winter’s Grace by the Numbers

~ SamF ~ Leave a comment

How might I count the days?

.

By the sounds of rain

On a field at night?

.

Or should I tally mornings

Of fickle, teasing light,

On the edges of storms?

.

Could it be the screeching egret,

High overhead in dark skies,

Framing chilling air into promises

Of frosty tinkerings.

.

How might I add these days?

Where a single leaf,

Bright star fluttering,

Shuffles to rest,

To dream in the soft cradle of spring.

A Climate Lament

~ SamF ~ Leave a comment

My sweet river

Where have you gone?

.

I knew you

Of bygone places

Wrapped in icy mornings

Beyond time.

.

Sweet songs of your seasons

Passing stories

Like childrens secrets,

Magical and suprising,

Refreshingly indifferent.

.

That was us.

.

Among your soft curves,

bantering about,

Often silenced in reveries,

While whispers passed across

Your eyes

Sparkling of emerald dreams.

.

Not you,

Not me,

But this.

.

Different now

In a sadness.

Lost

In the bony grip

of a relentless routine

Unrehearsed

And unwelcome.

Framing the Wind – a first draft before it all goes away

~ SamF ~ Leave a comment

How the light catches this corner of the kitchen now.

Some effusive glow that might have left us spellbound

And captive to a late afternoon pause.

But that corner hides dust and crumbs

Winters droppings and excuses and dark things.

.

This time there will be no pagan contemplation

Of this full circle before us.

No, this light pulls us away from the long dark

Where we lived maybe close within ourselves,

Intimate

In a way that accumulated warmth and a dim light can do,

Pulling you in while tempting you out

In short fidgety bouts.

.

Now, with almost forgotten suddenness,

Light piles through the window

Like the first time

When it pulled us out there.

A long ways from there.

.

And once out that door,

A long ways from here.

Convinced there were ghosts out there.

This is that time:

.

The long fetch up the hill:

Landscapes of new Spring grass

Flailing and moving.

Ever with the hard line of something

Hidden just over the hill

Waiting to knock at that broad, dark door.

Light now streaking through its edges.

Cheshire Winter

~ SamF ~ Leave a comment

I remember tracing

Across the pale silvery worlds

Of sharpened sounds

Lit by January moons.

.

Curse you,

Impatient rain,

And how you fidget!

.

Casting this land

Into a great serpentine lapse,

Of water and light

With everything sparkling

On a mid-winter’s night.