Tom Savage
I see a falcon in the sky
Though it could be
An eagle or a vulture.
Rather than a cloud,
It’s a dark shape between clouds
On a night when no light’s abroad
After our hurricane
Has departed three darks
But no electricity records anywhere
To be seen or heard
Except in an occasional passing car
Whose light reflections
Cast grids on my window
From time to time
Both inside and outside time as well
On this Halloween that wasn’t
Since Sandy the storm
That destroyed everything
Except mostly, my mind.
Now the clouds reform
Into the shape of a pterodactyl.
What could this mean, if anything?
Is this what I’ve become?
So sing, you curve-throated monster, you.
I want to hear your song
Before you evaporate into mist
And the sun returns to my midst
On this day without electricity
When peace seems lost in the dark
For another twenty-four hours.
Captures the feelings of those days… seeing more sky outside city windows. For me it was the setting sickle moon at 4 AM…was it a sickle was it a peterodactyl? What is lost and what stays, night and then day, always.
Good poem.
Mary Orovan