a branch falls
a shower of crows
spout up from their strutting place
flap stuttering a short yard or two
and settle again
in the stubble
storm
the storm has passed
the storm has passed
but
the birds remain silent
they are waiting too
After the thunderburst
Only eagles and adult kites could ride out these winds; and the kites with difficulty. The sparrows, prey, remain motionless beneath palm fronds, an occasional shiver and shuffle of feathers betraying their location. Slower than it had arrived with a thunderburst, the rain slows and stops, the wind calms and in the sudden silence birdsong begins to rise again. Now, before the heat sweeps back in, or the southern storm once more, now is the time to find peace, or make peace, or rest, simply rest.
I have walked through storms
I have walked through storms
rain and tears alike course down
my weatherproof skin
rain batters
rain batters roof tiles
the red shutters may not hold
my heart is not storm ready
pale cherry
pale cherry lips
windchill numbed
eyes spark black
as storm clouds approach
all this must end, must end
What do you expect
Yesterday had been a day when you sweated standing still. Today the August storms arrived ten days early. Palms dipped and swayed close to parallel with the ground. Shallow roots held as the rain had not yet softened the sun-charred earth.
Vito looked up from his cards and wrinkled his nose: it will all be past in half an hour. The far horizon was lightening. Thunder was far away above the sea.
The cicadas were silent. A single bird sang. It could have been warning, it could have been sorrow but it sounded of triumph. And now the sky was close to half clear and the rain had stopped. Shorter, weaker gusts of wind switched the olive trees from green to silver to green again. They shone in the reappearing sun.
Vito looked up again. What do you expect, he said. It is summer. There are strangers. What do you expect.
Leaves flash shy
Leaves flash shy undersides
sky-light against the crowding clouds
before the storm silent birds hide invisible:
what should I think of, if not tomorrow?
I asked you how you were after the storm
And I asked you how you were after the storm and you looked at me and I saw I had not been clear and the storm that shook the windows and the rooftiles in the darkness was not the storm you were thinking of.
After the thunderburst
Only eagles and adult kites could ride out these winds; and the kites with difficulty. The sparrows, prey, remain motionless beneath palm fronds, an occasional shiver and shuffle of feathers betraying their location. Slower than it had arrived with a thunderburst, the rain slows and stops, the wind calms and in the sudden silence birdsong begins to rise again. Now, before the heat sweeps back in, or the southern storm once more, now is the time to find peace, or make peace, or rest, simply rest.
simonsalento 