Photo by Ray Henness on unsplash site
With a storm front moving in the wind has begun to whip the trees and move the clouds along at a clipper ship clip. Cumulous clouds are billowing full sail in the blustery sky.
As I watch the display of clouds colliding, raptors appear and begin to play. Continue reading
If I were the rain,
I would be less begrudging.
I’d teach Heaven how to beat
a rhythmical drum. I would
speak fluent and decisive electricity. I‘d strike up
a conversation with the wind
and babble with the trees and roofs. If I were the rain,
I’d hammer away as if I could play Continue reading
We head out
in search of adventure, walk
atop stone walls
along Brooklyn Street and peer
into holes, culverts and dead falls. Continue reading
If I were snow,
I’d conspire with the wind.
We’d twirl and dance around your hat
and bite your ears and chin. Continue reading
Where bare branch
they congregate, gossips in tree tops
as the moon sets
quarter drained. Continue reading
The morning dawns
and black sky,
we’re leaving now
to catch the tide.
and fishing poles,
and jelly rolls,
like mallard wings
we shed the rain
and leave behind
the anchor’s chain. Continue reading
Today is a day to make Noah happy. The ducks are rejoicing along with the geese. There are night crawlers reveling in the streets and turtles with their eyes to the Heavens. The protesters are all holed up, hiding in their little dark rooms having to wallow in the mire of their discontent. Good riddance, I say, it’s a beautiful day. A deluge, tranquillity blessed in a chair on the porch with the rain like Angel’s singing. A glorious day to wring your thoughts. Glory to the storm. Glory to love and my beautiful wife. I am happy. I am present and content with the rain.
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books™