Mistral is on a tear.

It is the third day of rampage.
Today he wants to break something
A hapless pepper tree is a target.
He bends and twists him at improbable angles
Rips his green berries
Sends them to fly off then fall in the gutter.
Late blooming oleanders fold in a heap
As raging gales whip them.
A distressed little magpie
Cries somewhere in the pine above
while mistral screams through wires.

Cold wind and headaches
polished lenticular clouds
plastic bags airborne
trash run amok
grit in teeth and eyes.

Dirt devils guard graveled roads
sails of sand ply the beach
The sun scorches without warming
The Med sparkles shivers
Of the bluest kind but no smile.

Boats fight their mooring
Some win
Yet lose.
Freedom becomes death.

Mistral is dealing pain

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Life, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

19 Responses to Rampage

  1. arjaybe says:

    Wind gives me headaches, too. Thanks for the link to Green Comet.


  2. themodernidiot says:

    Is that blue thing an upside-down boat?

    Our oleanders just quit blooming this week. All the plants are shutting down to survival mode for the rest of the summer. We’re supposed to be getting monsoon rains; but instead we’re just getting winds that feel like being tied to a giant hair dryer sitting in a kiln. Plus, are dragging in enough humidity to steal away all the oxygen.

    Yeah desert.

    I remember visiting the Med almost thirty years ago. It was surrounded by scrubby, desert-like hills. I can’t even remember the names of the towns we visited, or the village we stayed in.

    I do remember swinging down a mountain at top speed every day in a VW Golf. I remember the cool stone of the village. I remember my first cigarette and how I learned to eat pasta.

    I remember the old, little man on the public beach, naked, arms akimbo, showing off for the pretty Italian girls.

    I remember a bottle of Coke cost like a thousand dollars.

    I remember thinking I wished I could see the sea from somewhere besides the bloody goddamned beach.

    I hope for another try. Until then, thanks for all the weather reports. 🙂


  3. john zande says:

    Hope you’re keeping dry. We’re being hammered here, too. Nasty bought of bad tempered fury.


  4. Yeah, okay, it has been a wee bit breezy, but you guys get so uptight about a breath or two of wind.
    Mais ta poesie, c’est autre chose, toujours magnifique.


    • emmylgant says:

      Really? A breath or two of wind?
      Wasn’t it AnElephant I saw wrap his tail around a tree to keep from falling over because his trunk was holding on to his hat? And didn’t AnElephant sneeze enough sand from his said trunk to build a sand castle? Arrumphh I say, mistral is freakin’ breezy!
      But thank you.
      Et merci pour toutes les fois ou tu me sauves du vent mauvais. Et pour l’essor que tu me donnes.


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