these long weeks while
the locust tree sleeps
unheeding of the rain
that drips from stems
and limbs, the seeking
beaks of the crows pull
seeds from their dangling
brown pods – a meager feed
worthy of the gray,
hungering days and watery dusks
outside my window
© Sarah Whiteley
One of a poet’s many blessings – any weather is poetry weather. 🙂 Happy Friday, my friends!
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true enough! this is lovely, lovely.
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Yes, lovely. No such thing as bad weather; only bad feelings about the weather…or sad, or mad, or glad…..
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Oh but is SoCal it’s seem we have the same weather over and over again…sunny skies with warm breezes until summer then sunny skies with furnace-blasting heats. 🙂 Makes for a limited array of weather poems.
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sounds like you need a vacation to damp (although currently sunny) Seattle 🙂 coffee’s on me
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This could almost be the scene here in Britain: the long wet weeks of a mild damp winter. It has its own charm though – as does your poem.
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if all else fails, we will always have the weather to talk about 🙂 cheers, John!
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Any weather is poetry weather–so true, love it!
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indeed Happy Friday Saturday Sunday 🙂 Sarah
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🙂
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any weather is poetry weather – that is great thought Sarah
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thanks, Guy! 🙂
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