somewhere, the sea
sends fish-and-chips (and salt) scents —
promises of rain.
Tag: weather
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Snow in the mountains —
And, rolling through each valley,
A cold wind blows -
After the rain
They come, roaring, sharp of claw:
Hungry lawnmowers. -
A heat that strains, it
Winds up air conditioners
And sets fans spinning. -
the earth is small
under the strife overhead
of cloud armadas -
Chip-yellow hills:
Ladeled warm and fresh, under
A Windows XP sky -
Heat cracks — crumbles —
Pitters, pours, drips — and drains away
Back to hot and dry. -
white and grey brush-strokes
stipple and sweep the sky — rain
empty promises -
Grey and chilly,
Early and late. But noon?
Asphalt and heat. -
Between bright sky and
Lawn, lit a whole spectrum's green
The cold still hides
Jenkins Rising 