Squall

When branches lift their leaves on buoyant air

their leaves upraised as in surrender

it’s clear a wind will blow and then they’ll fall

and droop becalmed before ripples reach them

of a tidal wave of air and quiver

 

as I see my muse shiver in my brain

feeling cold air foretell rain approaching

when her tender embrace will turn away

time turn again and then just as before

calm again aglow in golden sunlight

wrapped in a warm shawl surrounding her smile

waiting for sunset when the storm will come

 

our roof will rattle with ice-spitting rain

falling like grape shot on the bird bath’s pool

Dick Russell

2020