Portovenere, Italy ~ Luca Libralato
Brushstrokes of blue and gray
outline the puffy clouds.
Broad swipes of teal and aquamarine
meet the neverending horizon.
Swells of purest white
rise from the blue depths.
As my fingers reach for the canvas,
my gaze travels to the brushes,
and I shake my head.
No painting is needed
to capture the perfect day.
I stare around me
at nature’s perfect handiwork.
Portovenere, Italy ~ Luca Libralato
Brushstrokes of blue and gray
to outline the puffy clouds.
Broad swipes of teal and aquamarine
to meet the neverending horizon.
Swells of purest white
will rise from the blue depths.
As my fingers reach for the canvas,
my gaze travels to the brushes,
and I shake my head.
No painting is needed
to capture the perfect day.
I stare around me
at nature’s perfect handiwork.
clear the bad thoughts,
erase the worries.
Instead, I want to see a place
where birds chirp and play,
where mountains soar high.
I lift my face to the sun
to the beauty of life,
to the puffy white clouds.
Join me.
What does it feel like to fly,
Rising to meet the blue sky?
Soaring to a new height.
A bird’s exclusive right.
Alone and soaring high,
Nary a cloud in the sky.
Take me along with you, please.
What can I do to appease?
The wind will ruffle my feathers.
I will fly without any tethers.
I will fly over the land
To the tune of a marching band.
Spinning.
Turning.
Rotating.
Circling me.
Clouds.
Birds.
Sky.
Circling me.
I can feel the earth moving.
The trees trembling.
The grass shivering.
Circling me.
Source:nontemporary
This is just a bump in the road.
Life can deliver us a toad.
But we must keep our hope intact.
We know this as a well-known fact,
“Every cloud has a silver lining.”
I refuse to hear any more whining.
Fingers from heaven
Reach for the shore.
Shafts of light
Light the darkening sky.
The clouds move closer.
The rains fall.
The winds follow.
The end is in sight.
A NEW BEGINNING
The rain hits the puddles
in a staccato rhythm.
A mesmerizing sound.
Tree branches hang low,
weighed heavy with water.
Flowers lift shiny faces
for their morning washing.
The cold, crisp rain
refreshes and renews.
The clouds drip dry.
The sun returns
to brighten the day.
The air smells clean.
A new day dawns.
A new beginning.
The winds have taken their victims.
Tree limbs lie scattered across the grass.
A quiet descends upon the land.
Animals peek from
their hiding places.
Birds chirp in unison,
happy to be free again.
The sun will soon shine.
The clouds will clear.
The darkness will leave.
The earth regenerates itself,
preparing for the new day.
The air feels heavy,
laden with moisture.
Grey clouds hover
in the darkening sky.
The first raindrops arrive,
pounding on the rooftops
in a staccato melody of their own.
Pound, pound, pound.
Tap, tap, tap.
Rain washes our streets
and clears our minds,
preparing us for a new day.
SUSANNE LEIST 