The Ocean
The pungent smell of saltwater soaks the air
The sound of swishing, crashing impatient waves
Are rolling children dog-piling in playful chaos
Racing toward the shore
Bare feet crush barnacles on rugged rocks
And slip on slimy, soft, lush algae
A smooth rounded horizon
Reveals white wings on water
And like a glass orb
Glistens in sunlight
Missouri Storm
A sweltering hot summer’s day
Clouds gather like a funeral procession
And let down their tears
Earth is cleansed as pelting sheets of drops flood empty streets
Empty but for one bare-footed stranger
Soaked to the bone
Dancing with delight in the drenching downpour
The warm, wet cement is her stage
Bright flashes of lightening her spot-light
Rushing wind and drum-like thunder her music
Mountain
When the sky is clear
And blue birds fly
The sun shines
On the cold, dry ground.
The air is nippy
But I stay warm
In my marshmallow coat
And pleasant thoughts.
I look to a distant horizon
A masterpiece is painted there
A majestic mountain stabbing the sky
Has today, suddenly appeared.
But tomorrow the clouds roll in
Like curtains hiding the horizon stage
Of a white tipped beauty,
The faraway mountain,
Which is never there to stay.
