Poem: Summer Storm

Summer Storm

Mist grew over the mountains
the birds played in the sky
gliding along not flying
their wings opened
like tiny hang gliders
up and down they went
catching the streams of wind
I saw them come from afar
first one then two and more
bobbing in air not water
the storm behind them followed
the rain came down in torrents
beating on my window panes
and then like a dream
birds and water were gone!

Sketch 3: Thunderstorm ( Con Traduzione: Il Temporale)

On a promontory over-looking the Ligurian Sea, she stood on the deck watching as clouds amassed. The first flashes of white light over the sea, promised that a storm would soon hit.  The wind began to rise, the palm leaves danced.

She stood there as the first drops of rain began to fall, quickly becoming a down pour.   She put her head back to let the water wet her face and opened her arms. Feeling a strange sense of release, a sort of wild contentment.  Finally, sopping wet, but smiling she entered through the glass doors into her warm living-room.

She dripped water along the tiled floor as she ran into the bathroom, stripped down as quickly as possible, putting on a heavy hooded bathrobe, then returned into the living-room to watch the storm.  Her favorite chair sat in front of the window, her stereo set next to the chair.  She put on Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain.

Lightning flashed its forks into the Mediterranean sea, thunder booming closely on its heels. The wind whipped the waves into a froth as it howled…the rain coming down hard, beat its counterpoint on the roof.

The sky was like tarnished silver… the wind would suddenly change direction and beat upon the glass window panes, as though it wanted to enter into the room with her.  The bushes and flowers in her garden flattened under the violence of the storm.

A half an hour later, the wind started to abate.  The rain from a pounding torrent, became a drizzle and then stopped all together.  A ray of sunlight broke through the silver clouds, like a beacon and illuminated a spot on the sea.

Sated, she fell asleep.

@)–>–>—

Reading suggestion: these sketches were written to music…the piece is found in the story, try reading the sketches with the music mentioned.

Il Temporale

Su un promontorio che dominava il mare ligure, lei stava sulla terrazza osservando le nuvole che si ammassavano.  I primi lampi di luce bianca sul mare, promettevano che una tempesta sarebbe giunta presto. Il vento cominciò ad aumentare, le foglie delle palme ballavano.

Stava lì, mentre le prime gocce di pioggia iniziavano a cadere, diventando rapidamente un rovescio. Mise indietro la testa  per lasciare che l’acqua bagnasse il suo volto ed aprì le braccia. Sentiva uno strano senso di liberazione, una sorta di appagamento. Infine, bagnata in tinta, ma sorridendo entrò attraverso le porte di vetro nel suo accogliente soggiorno.

Gocciolando  acqua lungo il pavimento piastrellato, corse in bagno, si spogliò il più velocemente possibile, mise un pesante accappatoio con cappuccio, poi tornò in soggiorno per guardare la tempesta. La sua poltrona stava d’avanti alla finestra, e il suo impianto stereo accanto alla sedia. Mise  “Una Notte sul Monte Calvo” di Mussorgsky.

I lampi  sprigionavano le loro forchettate sul mar Mediterraneo, i tuoni rombavano sulla loro coda. Il vento mentre ululava montava le onde in spuma …la pioggia scendendo, batteva il suo contrappunto sul tetto.

Il cielo era come argento vecchio… il vento cambiava improvvisamente direzione e la pioggia si abbatteva sui vetri delle finestre, come se si volesse entrare nella camera con lei. I cespugli e fiori nel giardino si appiattivano sotto la violenza della tempesta.

Una mezz’ora più tardi, il vento iniziò a diminuire. La pioggia da una martellante torrente, divenne una pioggerellina e poi si fermò del tutto. Un raggio di sole ruppe attraverso le nuvole d’argento, come un faro luminoso ed illuminò un punto sul mare.

Sazia, lei si addormentò.

Rambling About a Storm

In our wonderful world of digital photography, there are just some things that I can’t catch on … darn, can’t say film now can I … bit maps?  Ah…anyway, maybe if I had one of those fantastic super-duper cameras, with a special lens and a great talent for photo retouching, I was saying maybe I could have shown you this fantastically oneiric storm we had last night!

They tell me that the storm began at 1:30 in the morning, but for me it began at 2:30, when the grumbling sound of thunder woke me up…and I mean grumbling!  It was like someones empty stomach … brumm, brumm, brumming constantly with-out a break.  I heard the rain and saw the strobe-like flashes, an idea that seemed to have been borrowed by nature to show people just what strobes really should be about.

At that moment, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach: had we closed the roof terrace door?  We usually don’t in the summer, but then it usually doesn’t bother to rain either in the middle of July.  So I ran upstairs.  Raining it was, in a big way, fortunately the door had been closed, and I was really happy about that, because it looked like someone was throwing pails of water against those windows!

I went out onto the loggia, there was nothing to see from the terrace windows.  What greeted me was one of the most beautiful storms I’ve seen in a very long time.  The rain came down in sheets and the wind, which I didn’t actually hear because of the constant thunder, had the bamboo patch in my neighbor’s garden almost laying flat at moments, only to pop back up suddenly.  The birch tree swayed back and forth perilously…if it had been a sturdier tree, I’m pretty sure it would have been uprooted.  Spray seemed to fly off my roof-top from the force of the rain and the wind.

I grabbed my camera which was close at hand…yeah, I know, crazy.  And put it on a night setting and took three pictures.  One without the flash and the other’s with the flash. Stragely enough the storm lulled at that point.

Then, I saw that my neighbor was standing at her door looking at the storm too.  I can only imagine she thought I was a lit-tle strange.  About this time my husband came upstairs too.  I turned off my camera hoping he hadn’t seen me trying to take photos of a storm in the dark. However, he really wasn’t interested…he was running for a bucket…water was dripping into the bedroom.

We sopped up the water, which wasn’t very much actually, put a bucket under the drop and went back to bed.

2:30 StormMaybe if I had a better camera…who knows.  That blob of white center-right is my neighbor’s light.

Have a nice day!

Poem: The Storm

lake colorsFree Verse

The Storm

We watched the lightning

flash in the mountains

silent not a sound

the moon hidden by rain clouds

shone through with eerie light

waves began to roar

as the wind whipped our faces

yet we tarried on

enjoying our warmth

the memory of the sea.

The moon broke away from the clouds

and shone down upon us,

onto the lake,

we thought

the storm had passed us by

when

a flash lit the night sky

with a booming voice!

We hurried away

not wishing

to

get wet

little did we know

we’d watched the storm

filling our house with rain.