It's Still Life

08.07.21 Weather Poetry

Today is bristle-brisk. Woolly words
laughing and dashing out the door.

The wind is breath and gladness
in concentric circles of clouds.

A twig taps on the windowpane,
it’s an arrhythmic heartbeat.

Thunder races between day and
night, like a chariot driven home.

Poem Form: Weather poem using pathetic fallacy (see #7). Image is from Public Domain Review on Instagram. Edvard Munch, “The Sun” 1911. On the wall of University of Oslo’s Hall of Ceremonies. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021