Discover more from From the Mountains of the Sun
Gray Days, Great Clouds, and Little Creatures
Poetry from a Chilly December
Winter weather has moved in and out and in again, bringing precipitation from major storm systems on the west coast. It’s been a chilly December so far, and rather gray and moist. But then the sun will peek out to remind me that I am still in the desert, his undoubted domain.
This first poem was written after days of rain in the lowlands and snow on the higher peaks. It was similar weather to that I described in Ghosts From the Sea in my last post. In this case, though, the skies had finally cleared and the clouds broken up over the mountains and the valley.
Flock From the Sea
Only a brush of white on the peaks now,
The rest of the mountains are brown;
The peaceful clouds look over the brow
Like a flock of sheep looking down.
The sky is bluer than summer days are;
The valley is almost green,
For the sheep came grazing from seas afar
Though nothing of ocean is seen.
Despite the cold, the hummingbirds are active and happy right now.
Morning’s chill and gray,
warmed by the busy chatter
of a hummingbird.
And here is a haiku that may require some explanation. My sister has a small glass Murano rooster—all red, white, and flecks of other colors in place of feathers. He sits on her window sill and glows in whatever sunlight is available. I glanced in and enjoyed his brilliance from the gray morning outside.
A dark windowpane–
through it a bright rooster crows
always, glass on glass.