a serpentine plume
of saharan dust

unveiled by radar
an ocean spanning

exhalation
of opaque

talcum haze
seeping into and onto

cracks metal glass
amid caustic

simmering
and listless

longing
for cicada drill

and aircondtioned din
to mute


Tom Spencer © 2018

white clouds swell up
anvil bloom

a lowering gloom
scuds by

stacatto drops
on the windshield

punctuate  
powerline sway

radio crackle
sparks

sheets of tenor sax
and blunt

gusts of cool
I lower the window

and steer
into the storm


Tom Spencer © 2018

after the rain
scattered petals
plum blossom path


Tom Spencer © 2018

hot summer morning
fleeting sheen
of her bare shoulder
when the clouds part


Tom Spencer © 2018

I wake in the darkness
distressed

the rain has stopped
no sound of dripping leaves

I think about your words
when we parted

you are worried
that now that I have

learned how to love
I might look for another

the heat is oppressive
I get up and turn on a fan

here I am alone
anxious longing wondering

if you are awake
and listening for rain


Tom Spencer © 2018

hidden away
the cool spring

that flows into
our turbulent lives

an unclouded
surfacing

that washes away
our cares

its current
lifting us always

through the roar
of outflowing

and the mirror still
reflections

of this calm
and sheltered cove


Tom Spencer © 2018

underneath
the dripping ferns -
frog song


Tom Spencer © 2018