The heat reclaims the rain for the air.
Water departs every blade, petal, leaf
to become lucid particles again.
The houses are barely lines of gables and gutters.
Walkers down the middle of the road,
lost, confused; buses singing like whales;
and the world is back to its origins.
‘How quick that was,’ you say.
Looming flowers, branches hang wetly.
Suddenly, the sun behind an old palm blazing
like some primal bird – an eagle, a crow –
each feather a silhouette.
The sea’s sunk, only white noise and
a fringe remains – the surfers lean
on their cars, straining for anything.
The runner shuffling on the sand,
past tidelines of leaves and weed; in a moment
he’s an outline; then gone.
We swam out past the breakers,
the shore declining until there was only
the lift and reveries of breath.
From the hill, the surf club is a yellow slab.
Abruptly, the sun again: a high arch of fog –
and everywhere droplets running.
A piece for Toads – Get listed – I used: lucid, branches, leaf and silhouette. Also I’ll post this at Dverse for the open link night.
Peter Frankis writes 
How spectral yet prescient this fog, if such a thing could be, a confusion which demands recognition. Love how the sea steps ashore (those whalish buses!), drowning all in a near invisibility. How shrouded-alive. Not a big fan of list poems because they usually look bent around the items of challenge. Yours is too good for that — though you had to and underlined the choices.
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I really like the dream-like quality of this–and those buses that sing like whales!
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Glad you liked. Some lines just come out of the darkness – singing 🙂
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Yes, indeed! 🙂
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That’s a stunning opening stanza, Peter, which reeled me in. I love the buses singing like whales’ and the lines:
‘The shore declining until there’s only
waves and the reveries of your breath’
and
‘From the hill’s vantage, the surf club is a yellow slab.
Abruptly, the sun again: a high arch of fog –
and everywhere droplets flowing’.
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Loved this foggy story, I felt lost in your fog. Nice!
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Glad you liked it Vicki.
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Wow this is wonderfully atmospheric! 🙂 Especially love; “The shore declining until there’s only
waves and the reveries of your breath.” Thank you so much for writing to this challenge ❤️
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Thanks for such a fine challenge – tho it was the morning that brought the fog 🙂
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Maybe this is just a lively telling of a day in the life of one in monsoon season, but I liked the strange apocalyptic lilt to it, the sun as a primal bird revealing to ourselves what finally needs to. Such a dynamic poem, Peter!
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Thanks Amaya, it was about as primal as these suburbs get 🙂
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Suburbs are about as primal as anywhere, I mean, why not? 🤔
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You painted a vivid scene Peter as if I was there. Thanks for joining in.
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The slow lifting of the fog… a great setting for a poem!
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Thanks Margaret – it was a gift – on a day when there was not much inspiration.
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I really love this… with summer rain being more a memory here on the northern hemisphere… The wonder of the sunshine after a rain is excellent (I love the thought of buses like whales)
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Thanks Bjorn
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Nice phrase: “buses are singing like whales”
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A palpable moment, wonderful!
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Thanks Cathy, glad you liked it.
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The first time I had seen the ocean in ten years I tried to write a poem about the small silver breakers, it is actually pretty tough, I picture what I had seen in the evocative line:
“The sea’s sunk, only white noise and
a fringe remains“
What a dreamlike humid day with the heat reclaiming the ocean 🌊
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A vivid piece, Peter, it seems to span aeons, all that is momentary, in an age or an instant. It reminds that all life needs continuity in its environs. Hope we’re not all saying, “That was quick, I almost missed it.”
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