Monday, January 13, 2014

January 13, 2014 We Write Poems #02

We Write Poems #2

A Windy Winter Day Taos, NM

The wind howls
And moans
Across the mesa

A sudden shriek
A lonely whistle
A siren’s call
A whisper
Only the sharpest
Ear can hear

Giving even
The sagebrush
A good shake
Rattling it's brains
Saint Vitus' dance
Rooted on one place
Bobs and nods

Telephone wires
Shimmer and shake
Try to free themselves
From the poles
That restrain them
Callers hear
Thunder and mumbles
On the line

An abandoned plastic bag
Hangs on barbed wire
Floats in the wind
Waving hopelessly
To folks passing by

Dash across the road
Running on tiptoe or
Tiny pointed fingers
Find the way
Hissing as they go

Clouds hang low
Wrapping and rolling
Above the mountains
With hammered
Silver linings

Winter brilliance
Sunlight reflected
A glorious sight
Snow still on
The ground
The sage

Dust and
Dried leaves
Jump up
Then fall back
To the ground

Yet no storm
More like April
Than January


Sherry Blue Sky said...

I love the mystique of the mesa, the tumbleweed running on tiny pointed fingers.....the wind, the plastuc bag fluttering on the wire......what a vision you have painted here, Annell. Loved it. Would love to stand on that mesa.

Anonymous said...

The wind breathes life into an otherwise still landscape. You made it dance, spin, whirl, and even sing,


Anonymous said...

You were able to make me part of this landscape. Just lovely, Annell.

Robyn Greenhouse said...

I could see all this happening as I read your poem. I smiled at the abandoned plastic bag waving to passersby. When I was younger, I used to think the plastic bags blowing in the wind looked like they were waving hello!

Anonymous said...

It's like reading a painting! I love this. Thank you for joining in, and hope to see you again next week. :)

Jules said...

Visiting AZ in December last year makes the images you paint very clear in my minds eye.

I played here:

Brian Miller said...

the wind can get pretty nasty...tore a couple hinges off th house the other week...i need to replace this the imagery in this annell...would love to return to your part of the world....

Sabra Bowers said...

Love your first verse. I imagined you sitting in a car describing the scene around you. Great job!

Raven's Wing Poetry said...

Again, I'm reminded a little of what I consider home...more like the area around Flagstaff, where there is all that beautiful, painted scenery. I like the focus on little details: the tumbleweeds, the plastic bag, the barbed wire.

I do have one question, however: in the third stanza, did you mean "Saint Vitus' Dance"? If you intentionally used the word "Virus", that might be an interesting play on the term -- nothing can stop the wind, it only spreads.