By Subhaga Crystal Bacon
It hangs over the western crest
like smoke from forgotten fire.
Spreads over the horizon
until there’s no peak, no valley.
Snow flakes flitter here
like cold ash, sifting through air
without touching ground.
Sunrise casts a pallor
over eastern sky that picks out shapes in clouds—
continents and seas
still shifting, unfixed—
now flares like a blinding golden eye.
Then obscured occult-like
in a translucent veil of gray.
Owl hoots in the pine, and silence settles
over the frozen land.
Sleeping. Waiting. Warming.
Subhaga Crystal Bacon has two collections of poetry, Elegy with a Glass of Whisky, BOA,Editions, 2004, and Blue Hunger, Methow Press, forthcoming June 2020.
2 thoughts on “Storm”
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Like this very much.
On Sun, Sep 6, 2020 at 6:17 PM Whales of Arcadia wrote:
> Whales of Arcadia: A Literary Magazine posted: ” By Subhaga Crystal Bacon > It hangs over the western crest like smoke from forgotten fire. Spreads > over the horizon until there’s no peak, no valley. Snow flakes flitter here > like cold ash, sifting through air without touching grou” >