For Thomas Edwards Wanning
Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
like a dog looking for a place to sleep in,
listen to it growling.
Think how they must look now, the mangrove keys
lying out there unresponsive to the lightning
in dark, coarse-fibred families,
where occasionally a heron may undo his head,
shake up his feathers, make an uncertain comment
when the surrounding water shines.
Think of the boulevard and the little palm trees
all stuck in rows, suddenly revealed
as fistfuls of limp fish-skeletons.
It is raining there. The boulevard
and its broken sidewalks with weeds in every crack,
are relieved to be wet, the sea to be freshened.
Now the storm goes away again in a series
of small, badly lit battle-scenes,
each in "Another part of the field."
Think of someone sleeping in the bottom of a row-boat
tied to a mangrove root or the pile of a bridge;
think of him as uninjured, barely disturbed.
A beautiful poem on storm and nature has been nicely and astutely executed.
A wonderful poem indeed. Clever use of words giving a sweet flow to the poem. Enjoyed.
Wonderful imagery, 'badly lit battle-scenes' and 'like a dog looking for a place to sleep in'
think of him as uninjured in- the storm in dark coarse- fibred families the surrounding water all stuck as fistfuls of limp fish-skeletons but injured all in man made (battle) field!
Now the storm goes away again in a series! Nice work.