Before a storm, there is this yellow wait;
hair zinging at nape of neck;
a slather of sweat on restless skin
and birds curl up on themselves,
then change their minds and swoop
I wish to unfold wings, anything,
and draw air beneath me
so I do not wait
for rainbows or false lights
ever again
Author notes
1. Going home into the darkness of false light.
In a list
A contest entry
- PIF PROMPT CONTEST by penman.
700 points, ended August 19, 2008, 10 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Wonderful
Very well done. Best of luck in the contest.



