I must remind myself daily
that it is not me.
The clouds sit heavily
filling the deep valley.
There is no wind to fill my sails.
every effort to move on is doomed to fail.
I sit and ponder and sometimes wail.
My spirit locked in by clouds like the tightest jail.
I am in the dull doldrums, so it seems.
Sun hides in mourning as I try to dream
of gardens and beaches… such light-filled themes.
Ohio winters’ dull doldrums make me scream.
Filed under POETRY
Forty winks and now
we see you,
until we don’t
lest we are mistaken
we have awakened.
The sun stays hidden
as we pretend
night is at an end,
and a new day begun.
The winking does not end.
The winking does not bend
the light enough to hide its glare
crouching low behind the clouds.
Would it be wrong to open eyes wide
on days like these
bathed in cloudy skies?
Seeing truth shining bright
might justice be the finest light.
Stop winking.
I stopped the chide
against cloudy skies
dropped into the river basin
dug out by ancient glaciers.
This is the place of safety from the world
of western fires
of eastern floods
of northern blizzards
of southern tornadoes.
In the middle we lie low
where clouds settle un-seamed
to protect us from extremes.
I miss the sun.
The sun is fun
until it rapes the atmosphere
stripping it bare
Clouds clothe the Ohio Valley.
I welcome clouds’ embrace.
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 