May Showers
Yes, it is May,
and the temperature hit 70
the other day, but mostly
showers are our daily companions,
tickling tin roofs,
tousling tangled terrariums,
fleecing hordes of Scotch Broom
that hang on hillocks like surly squatters,
playing musical scores on window panes,
swelling the river arteries that spread
through our many valleys like fecund fingers,
soaking tender roots in God’s elixir,
the green of our lawns vibrate electric;
we are rejuvenated as the sun breaks create
multiple beautiful rips in the gray breasts overhead--
a solitary sunny day dawns,
the air becomes clear,
the fire mountains ring with bellicose cheer,
and even I, without nagging fear
can face the morning mirror.
Glenn Buttkus
May 2011
Would you like to have the Author read this poem to you?
2 comments:
This is really beautiful, Glenn. My favorite line? "...beautiful rips in the gray breasts overhead"
This is wonderful I love that line, "...that hang on hillocks like surly squatters.." What a fantastic picture you have painted with your words.
Post a Comment