Illusions
Air thickened with moisture as the clouds purge themselves into a void , that appears as if the sunshine has somehow mopped up the sky ,
The grey canvas gives way to the spectrum , and takes the shapes of the backdrop that seemed to be cloaked by the curtain of the waterfall.
Trees look like skeletons in the frigid air reaching skyways trying to catch a grip of a dangling sun ray.
The baron sky harbors an eerie sense to it as I wonder where all the birds have taken refuge on this angry day.
Most have gone south for the winter , but the ones that stayed ?
Where are they ?
The wind hisses through the teeth of the rain making it sound even more intimidating, but slowly residing as well.
The streets gushing with rolling water , like a raging river , sprinkled with fallen leaves that look like desperate rafters headed for certain doom.
the clock advances , the nor'easter , has lost some of its luster , as the fingertips of the morning star seem to be poking through the blanket of grey, making little openings for the bits of the rainbow to wash the ashen hues from the scenery below.
The river dissipates , leaving shipwrecked leaves in the asphalt , and the voices of the birds ring out In the distance , to see if the rest of them are alright.
I still see the trees waiving in the distance , and the last if the wind moves along ,
Trees ? , boney fingertips ? Blankets of water ? Rivers in the streets ?
Illusions ....