west winds churn towering rain
clouds in, rumbling of thunder,
glowering darkly; but the next
dawns mild and sunny, when
what you hear is birdsong all
day long, and frogs serenading
their mtes in a high-pitched
throbbing trill. You suddenly
notice a blooming frill lacing
tree limbs rosy in the glow of
a setting sun, its halo of gold-
lipped cloud billows rendered
first orchid, then lavender, lastlyj
tending, bending toward indigo.
first published in Plainsongs Journal
©2017 Bonnie Manion