“A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Nature's Portent

http://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=Category:Landscape_paintings&fileuntil=Landschaft%2C+Margret+Hofheinz-D%C3%B6ring%2C+Strukturmalerei%2C+1969+%28WV-Nr.+2994%29.JPG#mediaviewer/File:EHill,_The_Old_Man_%28JJH-EH300%29.jpg

Calm breezes pass through.
Leaves drift down from tall branches.
A lazy descent.

This cozy moment
fools one into believing
one can rest at ease.

Heavy rain clouds loom.
Darkness on the horizon
augurs force unleashed?

4 comments:

Muffie said...

I think, as a comparison, that we're often lulled into those periods of peace. As with MS, things may be status quo at one minute, allowing us to believe all is well. Then, with a vengeance, we're reminded of its presence. We certainly typify that calm before the storm!

Judy at Peace Be With You said...

Muff, you understood the metaphor perfectly.

Karen said...

I am amidst the storm, but at least I got some rest before all hell broke loose.

Judy at Peace Be With You said...

Karen, sorry about the storm. As I have been in one for a while, I know much you must yearn for rest again. Good luck.