Tonight by Rosemary Griebel

Tonight, no weight. The sun slants over
the city, air lifts and cools. Below the weir
cormorants form a black line, patient fishers
with a solemn duty. If I keep walking,
these lit houses, traffic, the glow
of office towers will become a dark blue
backdrop, and I will be in a field. The smell
of ripe timothy and brome. Owls calling.
I love this world. And I will wait here for you.

July Sky

Goddess Pele dances a Paso Doble with Helios.
Below, the churning skies captivate a human audience.

Clouds boil and swirl, sweeping across the horizon.
Sunshine is blocked. Pele stomps. Her skirts swish
with abrupt intention. Dark thunderheads answer her
beat with a bass rumble.

A cone forms as she rotates and dips. A funnel cloud
emerges from the navy blue formation and drops into
the realm of Helios’ sunshine, before disappearing.

The force and speed of Pele’s violent actions contain
a hypnotic beauty, eyes unable to turn away. The
passionate choreography of water, air, and fire in the
heavens, leaves onlookers open mouthed. They rush
to tell anyone willing to listen how they survived
a bull fight in the skies.