And then a cloud passed, quietly, quietly

And then a cloud passed, quietly, quietly
And the sun rose
And the morning turned to clay
And the crows descended and flew through the gate,
Scolding, mocking,
Flying over dead leaves, disturbing the dust;
And the summer was empty
And the trees were empty-
Unconscious in the rain beat of autumn.

And into the old farm house blew the wind
Through a loosened pane
And the daisies in the garden slept in clay,
Withering summer
And the farmer worked in his clumsy shoes
Digging the earth soil
Waiting for the early snow- it hints of early
The frost is on the briar rose.

And then a cloud passed, quietly, quietly
And the bitter cold, and the bite of cold
And the ragged snow,
Hither between here and the crow stalk
Windless and the winter lightning,
Covers the boughs, covers the early owl
Descending flakes
Snow ash on the old farmer’s sleeve
(Gliding windless, the wended veil of flakes).

Copyright © 09/03/2016 lance sheridan®

And then a cloud passed, quietly, quietly

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This entry was posted in Poetry.

58 comments on “And then a cloud passed, quietly, quietly

  1. Singledust says:

    like coming home finally and finding peace, your string the words with such care

  2. Annie says:

    It’s like the clouds were tiptoeing so the universe could not hear them. Lovely piece.

  3. ssfrerking says:

    Shades of bitter winter that could have been set in Western Nebraska.

  4. Silent Hour says:

    Full of sound and images. I loved it.

  5. I started life on the prairies where -50 F was the norm. This brought back those memories quite vividly 🙂

  6. Thanks for following my blog! And all the likes. What do you like about it? Do you bike? You’re in Springfield, IL?

  7. You fashion images out of thin air, Lance.

  8. aphrodite smiles says:

    Cold.. yet so beautiful.

  9. rabirius says:

    Beautiful poem, Lance.

  10. This feels deep and beautiful!

  11. Your words are amazing…Thanks Lance. Good luck.

  12. Lona Gynt says:

    So gorgeous Lance. Just a true corner of the world, a space a time. I repetitions are trance-like, yet the images both vivid and soft. Next time I see snow I will feel a wended veil.

  13. Lona Gynt says:

    *the repetitions (not I repetitions). Oops

  14. Lona Gynt says:

    Second poem I read this week with an old country house by the way. I wonder what strange symmetry is converging on my reader, 🤔
    I think you will appreciate this poem by Amaya

    https://gospelisosceles.wordpress.com/2018/09/13/death-in-the-old-country-house/

    🏠

  15. Very much so! Has a bit of Sylvia Plath in it. It’s an exceptionally written piece. Thanks for sharing, Lona! Your thoughts and work do truly inspire me!

  16. That was lovely Lance!
    I like it when a poet can transport me into their poem and I just walk about inside it. Growing up on a farm I remember those feelings and even as a child I knew it was special. Thanks for being me there 🙂

  17. Francina says:

    excellent, such a lovely poem

  18. You described my great grandfather’s western Kansas farm and my grandfather working in the fields, waiting/depending on the weather, waiting for winter when the crops are in and heaviest work is done. I can see and hear the crows as they land pecking out the leavings after harvest. You always create poetry with such beautiful imagery and honesty … and this one spoke to me as few others have done. Thank you.

  19. I felt the cold and the wind and the snow, Lance, and I had to put on another layer!

  20. Tanya, you’re very welcome! Blessings, Lance.

  21. etiliyle says:

    💕💞💕💞💕💞

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