A Fall Skyward
It is blowing out there
in that field where rapeseed grew.
The old oak laboured and fell,
roots skyward.
It snapped through icy power lines,
and splashed like a whale
on to the rain-steeped fallow soil.
Today was hijacked by
a weathercock spinning wild.
dVerse Quadrille #72: Steep
Thank you. 😁
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How well you have captured the ravaging winter storm.
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A vertiginous title, Misky, which gave me that feeling you get when lying in bed and you’re suddenly falling! You’ve evoked the windy weather we’ve been having lately with effective verbs and wonderful imagery, I especially love the old oak with its ‘roots skyward’ splashing ‘like a whale / on to the rain-steeped fallow soil’ and the final lines with the manic weathercock!
I can see the scene… actually the second line talking about the field were rapeseed grew is such a contrast to the fallen oak, the powerlines and the spinning weathercock… to it’s close to the show-not-tell style of writing that tells me more of emotions than any poem that speak it out.
That’s a lovely compliment, and I thank you.
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Do you mind if I send you a link to a different type of poem of mine about a fallen tree?
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It's Still Life 
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