Weather Management

Evening’s pale charger has catapulted 

the charcoal horizon

sun’s chariot streaks 

rainbow sherbert-breasted

cirrho-cumulus tufts

in swirls of chemtrails

painted by solar geoengineers.

I hear him boasting of his masterpiece [as though he or she were not the handiwork of God!]:

“No Leonardo is required!

I have no pretension to artistry

and yet look:

even Rubens could not geoengineer such a sunset.

This is the 21st century!”

And so, the sunset continues to fade in velvet-stroked cerulean blues over roseate tufts of cotton candy pink diffused light 

now chroma is disappearing 

the cicada’s song rising to yet another crescendo and falling to a whisper with the tree frog

over a chirping cricket polyphony. 

Such dense music.

Evening’s charger has catapulted into her charcoal palace

as the music of pennsylvania’s woods wafts and fades.

In late august all is wan and sear.

Such dense beauty.