It's Still Life

Waiting for a Storm

The morning beckons,
it’s a crow’s call, or a hypnotic knock of waves
against a boat’s hull …
and on the next webbed second
I am sleeping again.

Seagulls are chased
from the coast by this storm, tossed on whitecaps.
They perch in winged trees
except for a heron watching crayfish scuttle
in disguise under the colour of mud.

We’ve bolted the side gate,
closed against the wind and storm.
The town is closed, semi-awake,
and we wait for clouds
to flood the road, and rush the hills’ shoulders.

I listen to rain wringing
cold from the sea, rain settling in the forest.
It draws parables from the church,
but the dead in the churchyard whisper
“We’ve heard it all before.”

Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2023.