Edge of the Storm

The air feels light, less dense.
It moves with varying speeds, directions.
It has a special smell of wet.
(My kindergarten teacher said water doesn't have a smell.)


Almost imperceptibly at first
a few drops start falling,
nothing to really worry over.
(Although, Mom still called to check up on us.)


A short trip outside for the dog.
She doesn't mind the wet,
only the stronger winds.
(They're what'll give us the most trouble, anyway.)


Nothing to do but wait,
avoid being outside, 
and hope for others' safety.
(It'll pass, like everything else.)


We Write Poems #69 3+(1) form
Poetry Tow Truck #35: Rain

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Quartz

I
numberless clear crystals
arranged to opacity
and varrying whites

II
Sorry I'm late.
A small bump in the path
tripped me up.

III
This small rock
(the length of my pinky)
was once part of something larger:
a mountain.
We are all small,
and yet part of the whole
of humanity.

IV
A glint caught by
the corner of my eye
Then lost in the dirt
until a short wind
revealed it to me.
A happy discovery.

V
Without its own locomotion
it travelled quite far,
no quartz sources nearby.
A few minor forces
combined,
water trickling,
a short kick,
but it made it here.

VI
Small beauties in life
like this bit of quartz
are often surprises.
Appreciate them.

VII
Straight edges
softened with time.
Half rough and
half smooth sides.
Some parts got more wear.

VIII
Cracks & crevices
too small to notice
but for the dirt
clinging in them.
Oh, the dirty details.

IX
looks to be a puzzle
with pieces carefully put together
and not easily pried apart

X
a rock hurled
a face cut
a crystal reddened
a scar formed

XI
Chance made it cloudy,
imperfect.
But not unbeautiful.

XII
Random gifts of
beauty are proof
the universe loves us.

XIII
“I found this shiny rock
just for you, Mommy.”
A little girl's
I love you.


Inspired by Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens
We Write Poems Prompt #68
Poetry Pantry #63