Radar shows the storm
purple and red and gold
but all I see for miles
are shades of Cape Cod gray
pale where the sky should be
a graphite-thin horizon line
its boats like ghosts
and a graduated green-gray ocean
punctuated by the occasional
wild white cap making its way to shore
even the trees are gray this morning
their late spring effort almost forgot
inside this passing storm
whose endings promise blue.
Poem ©2025 Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.
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