Tag Archives: Quail

Three Poems for August

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Barometer

aneroid barometer

Photo by stockarch via freeimageslive.co.uk

The sky’s been weird lately,
black swirling clouds,
out of character for the desert.
Do cacti and tornados even go together?

Thirty years ago,
the sky was always turquoise,
the sunset always peachy.
Why the paradigm shift?

What has changed?
Has the earth been nudged out of orbit?
Is it falling,

falling,

falling
into the depths of the universe?

O Rock, O Rock

Female_Quail by Alan Vernon

Photo by Alan Vernon

Three days in a row
A stock-still quail beside the path startled me
I studied it to discover
It was only a rock.

The third day
I picked it up
Sure it had wisdom to share with me.

I kept it in the laundry room
On top of a tower of storage boxes.
Every time I saw it
I remembered how it surprised me anew
Every day
Even though I knew it was hard cold unbreathing.

It’s gone (where did it go?)
Yet it retains its ability to surprise me
Popping into my memory at the oddest moments.

Blues800px-Blue_sky_with_wisps_of_cloud

Blue jeans
Blue moons
The blues
Blue skies
Blue seas
Blue blood
Navy blues
Baby blues

Loneliness is blue
Regret is blue
Memories of childhood are blue
Fading into the distance

Poetry © by ARHuelsenbeck 2016.