Links

9.17.2020

Ominous

 

Ominous

 

Late, on the tenth day of darkness, something changed. I heard a sound of water slapping leaves. 

I took my dinner of left-over pizza and laid on slabs of home-grown tomatoes, poured a tall glass of wine, and headed to the front porch. 

The air was still acrid to the tongue. Thick clouds above thick smoke had the street lights on.                             I sat down and watched fat drops of water splash the pavement and then stop.                                                   A promise, nothing more.                                                                                                                                                      

 Then thunder, lumbering in from the west. Lightning high up - cloud to cloud.

The storm attempted to be ominous.                                                                                                                    

 But after the last year, and the last 10 days, we are sorta spook-proof.

So I slipped aside and enjoyed that last light of a perfect summer evening that the calendar insisted.        And I knew by the clock that the sun had not set so I lifted my glass to the blue skies above.

The tomatoes gave evidence. Tomatoes never lie.

I accept the promise of the first rain drops.


Comments:
Hi Peggy. You sent me your book a few years ago and I sent you mine. Your book was introduced to me by a man I only knew online as Nate Swift. Nate hasn't posted in several months on the message board we both frequented and I fear the Covid worst. Was hoping you know what happened with him.

Thanks.

Frank Baron
 
Hello Frank, I have made inquiries. But I think I would have heard if he were not well.
 
Friend Bill A. in Medford reports that Nate commented on a FB post as recently as yesterday. So he is up and functioning.
 
Thanks much, Peggy. I know a few folks will be relieved to hear he's still on the planet in recognizable form. ;)
 
Who┬┤'s poem is this? Yours? I liked it.
 
Post a Comment



<< Home