The Weather Today
The sky, an impossible white blur,
spills itself everywhere at once.
The sea, grey as a mourning dove’s breast,
heaves waves like streams of white cream.
The rain, light and steady, drops fish kisses
on puddle tops pooling in the streets.
It is morning, far from the hurricane’s wrath,
but not so far from the touch of stormy fingertips.
The weather today, not so much warning as reminder
who this world belongs to.
Homage to M.O. on a Winter Night
I’m with Mary again,
walking the night fields
newly christened with snow.
The sky is a blanket of midnight blue.
The trees are glittering white spires.
The stiff reeds and frozen weeds,
powdered in softness, shimmer
in the glow of blue moon
like thin white arms raised in praise
of the light.
The silence, immense, presses against
the body, which presses against the soul
until the two become one in the marriage moment
when beauty kisses truth, and revelation flows
like the tears after love is made.
The house has grown quiet.
The pictures on the walls speak
in sign, telling their tales of noisier times—
holiday celebrations, birthday feasts,
vacation moments, graduation scenes,
wedding memories, and all the in-betweens
of family and friends and the noise they make
that echoes in the heart until it breaks
for the silence that comes to take the place
of the noise we need, the noise love makes.
The house is quiet, and memory’s wake
is long and deep enough to drown.
If only the pictures could come to life.
If only they could make a sound.
P.C. Scheponik is lifelong poet who lives by the sea with his wife, Shirley, and their shizon, Bella. His writing celebrates nature, the human condition, and the metaphysical mysteries of life. He has published five collections of poems. His work has appeared in numerous literary journals and he was a finalist in Adelaide Anthology Contest 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020. A 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee, his sixth collection, Seeing, Believing, and Other Things, is scheduled for publication in spring 2021.