Napowrimo 4/4/26: Microburst

 Today's Napowrimo prompt challenges the writer to write a short, rhyming poem including a weather phenomenon. Here's something like that, but without the rhymes.

When Wind met
the Neighborhood and 
bent trees like stale hard pretzels-
snapping them, chewing with
his mouth open, and leaving
the crumbs behind-I don't
think he realized that his
little tantrum, his funhouse
feasting, would ruin the 
weekend for the rest of Us.
All that line work and all that
heat. Vinegar in the milk.
Last week's groceries out for 
the garbage crew to drink in
the aroma of spoil on a day
with just enough of a Breeze
to otherwise be considered
charming. 

4/14/25: nocturnal forestry

 Had to wait until later in the day to get this one together. Here's the prompt. Here's a poem from Gabrielle Bates because she is great.

single gasp, swirl like
a distant, muted howl,
wind,
crack of old forest
        leaf skittering
gather    and claw
the ground with 
    gentle, sandpapered
edges.        rock dislodged
rolling
              away, more following now.
another gust and a symphony of 
flailing branches. somewhere, 
a single plunk into the river.
                silent ripplings. in
between the wind and adjustments
nothing makes itself known.        

Seasonal Conditions

 

The tree limbs rattle against the wood framed windows.

Wind, warping it’s cries

cascading them around the foundation and frame of the building.

Sky, in shades of blackness and fog, overcast brushstrokes fade out along the fuzzed ring of a lone, distant light. Life outside a frosted fish bulb.

Electricity fails, shadows twist and gel in shapes furnished by the gentle sway of candle lights.

Everything waits

as the wind laughs,

in an otherwise still space.

For now.