when weather moods to strange
the townies look a certain look
at distant silver cloud sweep
read moveable graffiti
in litter ground spin
that spreads across a walk
they orient to steeple
listen for the Angelus
think-pray deliverance
clear cushions from a porch
plan indoor birthday parties
consult the Almanac
speak quietly with neighbors
when black swans shelter glide
to a weeping willow
and when a wedge of geese
disintegrates to strands
within a frantic clamor
the townies…wise and stoic
know temporary, and already
they are gone to ground
Bonnie Marshall
Artist: Jamie Wyeth
“Other Voices” 1995
Proem... 
Beautiful!
Grateful thanks, Nancy. Smiles…
That’s well observed Bonnie (I speak as a townie myself – albeit one who loves local walks in the countryside)and beautifully expressed.
Hello, John! Pleased you like this one. Smiles…
Beautiful poem Bonnie. So glad to be seeing your poems again. I’ve been missing them. Hope you and Tom are well. Hugs!
Thank you Cindy. Very meaningful to us to be remembered. And we wish good health also to you. Smiles…
ah yes, of course, if ‘mood’ were a verb it would have to be passive …
I’m interested you think this, Mark. Hmm…
A missed perspective on the world, an impression of a hand still on the pillow and shadows are not an absence of light. They are its essence disguised and seen by few.
Hmm…seems you posit (stuffy word) shadows are the essence of light. Seems I catch the perspective. Smiles…
And, I’m thinking of the essence of pyramid shadows. Make sense re your comment?