I may be different
but I am not a problem
that needs to be solved
–
fly fishing-
different clouds
under the same sky
Category: Summer
Beach
crabs in the shallows-
a hidden sandbar barely
revealed by the tide
–
onshore breeze-
knots of seaweed
drying in the sun
Storm
howling in the night
a cold wind pounds on my door
straining the hinges
–
black rain-
branches scrape
my darkened window
Escape
under thick brambles
a stream runs through an arch
in an old stone wall
–
empty talons-
a chipmunk
avoids its fate
Rain
little galoshes
stomping in puddles under
pastel umbrellas
–
thunderstorm-
rain shedding off
an elephant ear
Wind
the smell of sea salt
carried on the inland wind
by dangerous storms
–
flying fish-
on the bowsprit
the sea in her hair
River
pearly morning mist
the crew of eight rows as one
curling flat water
–
bulrushes-
a passing wake
laps the shore
Heat
my temper flares up
in the heat of the moment
yet I’m the one burned
–
desert sun-
my ego buried
in the sand
Corvid
a murder of crows
as one silently take wing
into the august sky
–
turning winds-
a crow flies
before the sun
Houston
hoping against hope
to stem the incoming tide
and still it rises
–
august-
forsaken
by the sun