The haar eased in
like a metaphor;
the sun fought briefly
but not enough.
The couple on the beachside bench
stood
and walked away
from each other.
weather
17 December
loosened leaves need external disruption
the autumn wind howls from the east then the west
the shaken trees stand taller and slimmer
the earth gains riches for the winter
Sort of inspired by Hildegard
night clouds part
night clouds part
as the west winds whisper away the mist
and sunlight cleanses the sea
Anthropometeo (1)
Whenever the heat reaches an unbelievable peak,
clouds and thunder roll.
The atmosphere is breezeless, breathless,
until souls have cooled and
sky clarity returns.
midsummer’s night
shadows on shadows
midnight owl calling
smoke on the horizon
thunderclouds reforming
I like foggy days
I like foggy days
I can pretend you are here
oh
how much you are missed
year three quarters done
autumn beginning
winds freshen, a first spitting
still you are not here
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.
Inverleith Park December
sunlight cold on frozen water
the taste of snow advancing from the east
the moon behind the trees impassive
Tramontana
The people stood and watched the tramontana take the world past them, clouds, palm leaves, things from gardens that would not be missed and those that most definitely would.
It was so strong it tore a small girl’s midday shadow clean away from her feet. Black against the whiteness, it went tumbling and turning down the dusty lane until it was lost in the shade of the oak trees. The girl stared wide-eyed at where her shadow had been and turned her face up towards her mother, who patted her head and ruffled her hair and hid her own tears.
“A day it’s born, a day it lives, a day it dies,” someone muttered, “but this is its fourth day and now it’s taking shadows.” There was silence except for the sound of the wind.
simonsalento 