Ciel de traîne

A spring weather poem for NaPoWriMo. There is more ciel de traîne here, in French with English adaptation. I wrote it/them when we were still packing up to move. Seems like light years away.

1024px-Cloudy_Sky_with_River

 

Ciel de traîne

drag-net sky

meshes up swallow shoals in grey mists

and goldfinch flocks dart

hysterical with mock fear

in and out of leaf shallows.

Above the rain-damp fields

chains of clouds process

wild wind-driven.

There are no rocks to break this tide

only gentle tree tops

leafing spring green.

Rain blows

grey swirls

giboulées

I wait

for the inevitable gold to fall

through wind rents

fountain through blow holes

and transform this meadow

into a river of diamonds.

Where will we go when the darkness falls?

1024px-typhoon_in_hong_kong

Where will we go when the darkness falls

And from green depths the ocean’s voice calls?

Are there safe places in city sprawls?

 

We could follow the swallow so swift

And hope for a wind, black clouds to lift,

But flight, narrow-winged, is not our gift.

 

Air and ocean are bound into one,

All are equal beneath the bright sun,

We’re left with our hearts, when all is done.

What can you see?

Another triolet inspired by nothing in particular except an effort to rise above the bongos beneath the window and the rumba over the wall. So no complicated poetry forms for me today, sorry NaPoWriMo.

Sunset_sky

What can you see through the gap in the cloud,

Is the sky still as blue where you soar on white wings,

Is the crash of breakers beneath as loud?

What can you see through the gap in the cloud,

Do our towers of steel and stone stand proud,

Though they cannot reach where the starlight sings?

What can you see through the gap in the cloud,

Is the crash of breakers beneath as loud?

Microfiction: Beams

This 100 word story is for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers, based on the prompt photo taken by her lovely self. Thanks, Rochelle 🙂

clouds-above-the-trees

It was a strange morning with an electrical tension in the air instead of the usual spring energy. I wondered if there wasn’t a storm on the way. With a frown, my husband pulled over, stopped the car and got out. I followed him as he stomped into the field.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“That.” He pointed at the beautiful almost biblical sky, dark cloud silhouetted against a fierce light that streamed in broad bands of searchlight brilliance.

“So—”

His finger moved to the brightening hills that rimmed the other side of the sky. “The sun’s over there.”