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The Clouds Take a Walk
Nature ladles pea soup filling the countryside to the brim, and wrapping the surroundings in a cocoon of mist.
We travel on feeling isolated. But dim headlights show we are not alone. These headlights paint shadows on stretches of canvas that play tricks on the eye.
Time seems caught in a web of fog. For a moment we glimpse the past Buildings and progress vanish. Trees and shrubbery stand alone.
Then, almost by magic buildings re-appear. Traffic lights come into focus, vehicles surrounded us. The sun now shining bright chases away the mist. Patches of fog grow less and less Gray gives way to green.
The clouds return to the sky,content to float on the breeze. But their footprints remain, glistening puddles of morning dew.
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Emptied and Forgot
They are open wounds on the city landscape. Grim reminders of prosperity gone. Vacant restaurants with boarded up windows. The forgotten remnants of dreams.
Despite signs eagerly offering their sale. They remain empty. Mere shadows of what they once were. Customers gone, shelves bare, tables and chairs mere phantoms. The menus, the food forgot.
Silence echoes, aromas no longer tantalize. Stale air bears mute testimony to abandonment and decay.
The only entree now crumbs left by a vagrant. just passing through.
The only guests, that stay insects, vermin, the wind. They travel freely through doors no longer secured.
It is not cars, but weeds and grass that fill the parking lot. In time these buildings will be demolished. Then only the wind will remember what was and sigh. |
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Spring Stops By
Windows opened curtains dance across the floor to a medley of sunlight and shadow and a chorus of birdsong.
Outside, clouds float across a sea of Carolina blue. Trees stretch and yawn. Shrubs seem to blink. The grass sighs.
Potted plants carried out smile, their leaves basking in the warmth.
Spring has stopped by. Winter absent, is forgot. Except by the calendar on the wall
Confused by the weather it struggles to decide which month is right. Its pages lift questioningly.
We ignore the calendar. Leaving it alone in it bewilderment. And enjoy the day. A day of sunlight, breezes, blue sky and smiles. |
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Terry
Lowenstein lives in North Carolina with her husband, two
daughters, and two cats—Dickens and Emerson. In addition to
poetry and short stories, she writes |
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Copyright
2002, Terry Lowenstein. This work is protected |
