Her Midwestern Calm in the F4 Winds
The humidity fuss of her sunflower
rattled in the recent mizzle turned tornado
since a clipper dipped down from Dakota
causing closed highways and F4 winds.
Her grip on the wheel’s adroit, open position
turning left, she mentions nitrogen and oxygen
atoms. Panic of weather radio’s urgent basement
shelter. The city made vacant. Tattered ends,
the thrushes of her bangs vibrate, she says “air
is an insulator” in the Post Dispatch gale.
A lone cop car passing slow,
like some love poem,
through the braille of scattered vehicles
peppering the median.
15 thoughts on "Her Midwestern Calm in the F4 Winds"
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The line and stanza breaks are perfect. Each line plays with the lips and breath. And it just looks so good.
Nice work.
Thanks so much Coleman.
That last image in the final two couplet sections is so good and intriguing to me. I really enjoyed this poem
I appreciate the comment Shaun. Enjoying your work.
a perfect poem.
beautiful rows of corn
planted in twinrows
side by side- with
their eyes on the sky.
I’d say that about covers it. In all seriousness, I can only dream to be so zen as to achieve the mentality of a meteorologically conscious row of corn!
This is wonderful, especially the “lone cop car passing slow,/ like some love poem,/ through the braille of scattered vehicles/ peppering the median.”
Thanks Chelsie.
Chelsie and I are on the same page. Those couplets sing. Braille as pepper. Take me to Waffle House next. A Dadaism of sorts with a seeing eye dog named Luis.
Joking. Beautiful work JT.
Gosh, I need to do a Waffle House poem. Haven’t been to one in years. I’m missing out.
Yes:
A lone cop car passing slow,
like some love poem,
through the braille of scattered vehicles
peppering the median.
Fantastic, Jon! So well done. Can I borrow this lady to drive me around this winter?
I’m afraid she’s already contracted to me Kevin.
But email me if you need a lift.
You “spun” a delightful tale, Jon–nicely done!