Hour 1 – 2021 Poetry Half Marathon

 

The light rolls in like thunder
on a night when crows rest
nervously on electric wires
just below the tree lines.

I look west – the direction of the sun plummeting into an envelope
of spring vegetation
and early darkness.

As expected, the trees are lined up
like soldiers beyond the clearing,
meeting this fresh spring sunset
in it’s tendrils climbing toward sunshine.

The weather is already teasing us
with daytime warmth,
though the nights are painted on a cool,
sometimes damp tapestry.

Soon, the shoots, sparsely bursting
through gnarled limbs and brush,
will turn into leaves unfurling
in the tender spring sunshine.