Sunday, November 18, 2012

Squall (Poem)


    after Andrew Wyeth's Squall


It's summer:
she never thinks
to take her yellow raincoat,

always leaves me
wondering how she'll track
incautious sloops in sudden storms.


Today, I read her signals
without needing to search
our tangled clothed-less lines.


Already, I've recounted
every stone we've lifted,
re-set to mark our way.


Undressed, the window
always mirrors the chill
we fight to hold inside.


Heat rushes from the open kitchen door.

© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas

Today's photo prompt at Magpie Tales is Andrew Wyeth's Squall, painted in 1986 on Maine's Southern Island.

Go here to read other poets' contributions or to add your own.


Anonymous said...

I'm smiling.

S. Etole said...

I'm a fan of Andrew Wyeth and you ... the two of you together is wonderful!

Berowne said...

No question; you can write...

Unknown said...

The temperature changes and the callous descriptions of clothing, rocks and signals say so much. This touchingly wistful poem is great, Maureen. Thank you for sharing.

Helen said...

... this is 'fine.'

Susan Anderson said...

That last line is golden.


Carrie Van Horn said...

I love every line....but stanza 3 is amazing!

Margaret said...

It's nice to have someone to look out for them, wait for them. :)

Tess Kincaid said...

These link together so beautifully...I especially like 4...

SilverGardenia said...

I like 4 and 5 best. Nice poem.

~T~ said...

Well done...