Condor Storms

I woke up to the rock and flare
of distant headlights in the fog
and watched the silhouettes of bikes,
like whirling spiders, cross the street
down from the bus stop. Diesels groaned
delivering the morning's loads
of groceries, collecting trash
from sidewalks sleeping in the mist.

Out there on the broad Pacific
winter storms are slow-revolving
turning to the western coastline
like a rising flock of condors.
Taste the tang of ocean moisture
hidden in the kiss of fog.

Metrical games: iambic tetrameter for the octet, trochaic tetrameter for the sestet.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside