Shadowed Morning

In the half light

Of a veiled sunrise,

Trees bow and sway

With anticipation. 




The eastern horizon

Bruised and mouldering

Prepares the cloud bank -

Nimbus - dark and laden. 




At bus shelters and train stations

Young women fight to control summer skirts

And young men pretend not to notice,

While trying to keep their hairstyles in place. 




The mood is grey

The threat of rain is real

We retreat within ourselves -

While the flowers remain bright yellow.

golden flowers shine

unapologetically 

through my somber times

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Haiku (untitled)

(It looks like the moon is stuck up a tree, and I’m in the mood for a nice cup of tea – words by ‘Buck 65’  Click here)

.

.

.

summer rain threatens

moon seeks shelter in a tree

today I sleep-in

Umbrella

 

You ask should we walk

on such a dismal morning?

When for me, the weather is merely cream

on an already delightful idea.

Even with the rain;

Does not the light still reflect in your eyes?

Do not the buildings still stand erect?

Glorified by our observations

as water cascades from vigilant gargoyles?

Will not the crepe

Proffered by the early morning vendor

be just as sweet, as one consumed

when rain declined to hiss upon this pavement?

Will not your lips be just as tender

even when dampened

with a light Parisian mist?…

For me your company remains,

undiminished by these sideshow acts of nature

Dry

summer rain sublimed

virga teases the hot earth

trilling frogs slumber