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poetry

En Plein Air

 

 

storkyie

Winged with rain clouds,

the south wind moves

smelling of pines and sea.

 

Birds glide on her shoulders

looking for the ancestral

nests they left behind. Woven

of wild grass and vine, baskets

that once held eggs then hatchlings

stay aloft  but withered

 

on roof or gate.  White storks

after  a long time return

hoping to reclaim

their former stead. The wind

turns her head softly

toward some pasture trees

where a  slender boy

blows on his tin whistle.

 

A folk tune that reminds her

of what she must gather —

the sweet pitch, trends toward a wild

and cleaner earth.

 

9 replies on “En Plein Air”

Reading this, it strikes me that a lot of migratory animals are going to be confused when they return this year. It’s not the same world they left last fall.

Liked by 1 person

Hi Michael

I think with all that is going in the climate and our immediate environment, both species, animal and human will be confused. Thanks so much for commenting. I sincerely appreciate it!

My best,
Wendy

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Hi Steve

Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts, I really appreciate it!. And no, the painting is not mine, if only I could paint but that is part of the reason I write. I capture thoughts and experiences through imagistic language.

again thanks!
Wendy

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Hi Adnabilah,

What a nice thing to say! I am glad you enjoyed this poem and sincerely appreciate you commenting on it!

Thanks alot,
My best
Wendy

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Hi Craig,

I , too, believe the wind and the trees communicate in a natural language of their own, something beyond our own, human comprehension.Glad you liked this and deeply appreciate your interest in this poem.

My best,
Wendy

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