Approaching Storm / Moon Glow by Michael Keshigian

Approaching Storm 

He was walking along the boundary wall
when he observed wild weeds
that grew between the stones
subtly shivering in summer sunlight.
Perhaps they sensed tumult in the air
though the sun glimmered
and shadows lingered long
across the lawn
in the silent afternoon.
The sky maintained its cobalt hue,
but the cardinals
had ceased their song.
No butterflies or bees
hovered among the blooms,
no ants feasted upon
the rotted limbs of oak
strewn about the yard.
The trees, nevertheless, maintained
an odd twist and bent slightly,
in deference to something
they discerned
hidden within the calm of the day,
something, perhaps,
about to lurch forward
of which no one had a clue,
arrested, as we all were,
by the motionless, deafening quiet.

Moon Glow

 

As if you hid a secret,
layers of wispy clouds,
deflecting your pale, white aura,
camouflaging the stars about you,
tell me about the path I seek
which you cleverly disguise
with the diffracted silhouettes you create.
Will I ever find my way?
You steal away my compass,
direction becomes obscured
yet my imagination wanders,
and like a detective
I decipher shadows,
that veil various clues
and confiscate some evidence
to find my way home
until you interfere and vary your glow
behind a thicker cumulus wrapper,
cloaking each trail one by one
into the corners of darkness,
abandoning me with only my wits
to combat the thickening night
and my wayward journey homewards.
If you did leave a hint,
I have overlooked it
while drifting aimlessly
as branches and rocks
impede my stride and alter my path
toward destination’s arrival
and the prevailing light of sunrise.




Michael Keshigian is the author of 14 poetry collections and has recently been published in the Comstock Review, Blue Pepper, Young Ravens Literary Review, and Jerry Jazz Musician, with 7 Pushcart Prize and 3 Best Of The Net nominations.