Elizabeth M Jones

FLORIDA THUNDERSTORM

Out in the storm,

I am energized by the wind gusting and

tearing at the trees;

I feel the bracing caress on my face as it lifts my hair-

As the clouds grow darker and their edges more ragged,

the air seems to sizzle with energy;

and I smell the earthy scent of rain.

The heat of summer has been chased away

by moisture crashing

from high in the anvil cloud above me;

I should go inside soon,

before lightning strikes nearby,

but I cannot bear to leave the pleasant coolness

and the crackling excitement.

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LATE SPRING SKY

High cirrus ice-clouds

blown like driven snow,

blending royal blue and azure

in the roof of sky above.

Wind courses through the porch screen

with a silvery sound;

as it subsides, I hear squirrels and birds

and a dog barking in the distance.

Underneath it all, a low hum

from construction or commerce;

the silvery voice of the wind sings

a descant over the bass tones of civilization.

As I absorb the sounds,

it is difficult not to feel impatient;

but I wonder why I am so anxious

to rejoin the chaos.

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FLORIDA FALL

All is blue and green as I sit on the swing

on the porch in late November;

the sun sinks and the temperature dips,

and my skin prickles with the chill.

I hear squirrels chattering in the oaks nearby,

and a crisp chirp draws my eyes

to the flash of red as a cardinal struts

on a branch in the highest tree.

From far in the distance I hear the crows

scolding with hoarse voices;

soon it will be time to go inside,

but my eyes are heavy with golden sun and now I must sleep.

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SOUNDS OF SUMMER

The sounds of summer fade

as I drift gently into sleep,

faint strains of song from a faraway radio

chasing me into dreams.

I awake to voices from my neighbor's yard;

the words are unclear, but

the tone reminds me of a lazy picnic

with fried chicken, devilled eggs, and iced tea.

The soft hum of traffic from behind the wall

blends with a low throb in the distance:

the mixture a satisfying blend of nature

and comforting community.

Though I am relaxed, I am surrounded by industry:

the cardinals flitting from tree to hedge,

the squirrels scolding, the bees seeking nectar,

the dragonflies hunting.

Should I stay awake and watch the cotton-puff clouds

as they drift through the hazy blue sky?

Or close my eyes and feel the sea breeze

rustling through vivid palms?

I am soothed by the hugeness of blue-sky,

the unchanging cycle of birth and death,

and my own small place

in the dance of the world.

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GREY SKIES AGAIN

Grey skies again, with tattered clouds

like the limp wisps drooping from cotton bolls,

cold and dead after harvest;

these clouds are muddied by storm and

rushed by chilly wind; they spit rain

like chipped ice.

My heart is touched on cloudy days,

for sun seems to mock my dark despair

and to force my face into cheer I do not feel.

Under grey clouds I can be myself,

for they hide my pain and sympathize

but do not judge.

They hear the deepest cries I dare not share-

they are a mirror letting me know

I am not alone.

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FLORIDA EVENING

All seems unreal under moonlight,

accompanied by frog and insect;

a distant thrum of bass from a neighbor's speaker

hides beneath the whoosh of traffic nearby,

and I am soothed by the sound of rushing water from the pool.

Orion shimmers just under moon glow,

dancing with Canis Major;

I am dazzled by a spark as bright as a planet;

I hate to leave this peaceful place,

but mosquitoes will soon be hunting

and there are chores to do before bed.

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IN MY ROOM

In my room, as the golden light falls

from sun sinking behind roofs and trees,

I feel my mind wander far away,

longing for something just out of reach:

a magical place,

like a talking forest,

where I can hide

and not be afraid.

As the shadows grow longer,

I feel a faint chill

from something I know well

and long to avoid:

a sense of shame and uneasiness,

as familiar as my dad's old slipper

but sour as the smoke from his cigars.

I hate feeling this way, alone and unknown.

As the light fades to purple,

I dream of a place

where I can know and be known.

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THEN, AS NOW: A MEMORY

Lying in the sun,

I hear the gentle drone of a plane far overhead;

and I am plunged into a memory from my childhood;

then, as now, I lay on

dry, sweet-smelling grass, with the caress of a soft breeze

and the touch of sun warmth on my belly.

Then, as now, the calming sound

prompted my mind to release the tethers

that bound it to earth; and it

soared freely into the blue, open space

before me.

Now I realize why I returned to that day so long ago

and remembered lying in the fragrant grass;

because then, as now, the quiet and the warth

and the far-away droning

took me out of myself

so I could forget.

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