Two Summer Nights, Ten Days Apart

In the dark we lay, in hammocks, wine tables at hand, each with a full glass; watching Perseid meteors, arrows of red-gold in Milky Way foam. Laugh, loudly, forgetting it is midnight.
Ability to be delighted: this too we are grateful for.
Arrows or eels, foam or powder - how a thing is seen, always debatable. Glass half full or half empty? Refillable! We shout, forgetting time has crept past midnight.

Storm winds galvanise clouds.
In the day, sun pierced each break; the escapees had dropped rain, heavy pocketfuls, like stolen scree.
Roses, grown tall, lash at porch glass.
Windows have their latches tested. Roofs are pried.
Too warm, to have everything shut. We would gape, separated from moving air.
It is beyond vantage here - but we feel it, keening - the weight of the wild sea.


Geo. said…
Stunningly beautiful poem in two contrasting atmospheres. It is full of the visual adventure that is nature, the language of the universe. Brava!
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you as always Mr Geo. Conversing with nature is my favourite kind :-) x

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