The Clarity of Clouds

The clarity of the clouds this morning
suggests a creature trying to make up its
mind
About emotions.
No wind so the leaves across the pavement
and the grass drowse fitfully
trying to dream back to last summer.
Every naked branch above us has seen us
at our best and worst,
compassionate and murderous.
So don’t mistake the puzzling verdicts of
the mottled light
upon our monuments for memory.
Each shift in light is just another
question, a different puzzled state of mind,
another lens that brightens and darkens.

Carl Lowe

Changing Seasons

Already grown comfortable with the

repetitious rhythms of summer,

this afternoon I can feel a wrinkle

of unease blowing through the trees.

A slight shift of received sunlight

signals the approach of

the subtle subterfuge of winter,

an undertow that grows

more bold as each

afternoon shortens,

its flow pulling us smoothly

towards the solace of

cold thoughts that are waiting to awaken

from their warm weather nap.

Soon the memory of this summer will

drift like an unmoored dream

disappearing among a fleet of

neglected vessels

becalmed on a sea

of abandoned expectations.