Clear

[rejectomorph]

Saturday afternoon the town was shrouded in low clouds. Unlike the ground-hugging fogs of the valley, the condensation here is thickest on the higher ground. In the arroyos which run down the ridge, the cloud thins. Driving across town, one passes through the relative clarity of wooded dells roofed with grey cloud, then rises into that cloud, and all becomes indistinct, the bare black forms of the oaks stretching dimly over the streets.

I went to the market in the fog, and when I came out, the rain had begun. Darkness fell quickly, and the lights glittered in pavement and glass. But even in the rain, some fog lingered on the ridge tops, swirling as it dissolved.

Early this morning, the cold front came through, and all cleared to a day of brittle winter sunshine, bright but chill. Now, the remaining moisture on the lawn is beginning to freeze, and crunches under my footsteps. I hope for a few more days of sunlight. I've had enough of the rain for now.

Comments

[craic.livejournal.com]

The sun hath killed the ice and cold,
leaving only the warmth and promise
of an enduring spirit. Yet whenever
the clouds shall fail to part

And the world freezes over, I know
the sun
will always lay behind the clouds.
Hope will part my clouds again.

Yet I shall never wish the clouds completely away,
for its rains always bring me new life.
A new love.

[rejectomorph]

I like that, but don't recognize it.

It sounds 19th century, but scans 20th.

[craic.livejournal.com]

I wrote it myself. My favorite poems are the spur of the moment ones.