Tag Archives: thunder

Lobster-Colored Sun of Fire

a love poem to Ethel by Thomas Davis

Like a snowflake in August is my love,
Like an August sun on a winter day,
Like the small thunder of a shining raindrop
Striking on a roof of stone.

O lobster colored sunfire,
How can the heavens be strewn with stars
When the sun has not felt the coolness
Of the gently silvered moon?

I have felt snowflakes in August
And been warmed by an August sun in winter.
I have heard small thunder ringing,
Brought by the drumming of raindrops,
Upon the stone roof of my soul.

O lobster colored sunfire,
Do you not know the differences made by love?


Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis

The Thunder

a love poem by Thomas Davis to Ethel

The thunder is silence.
It came upon the morning
With clouds more enormous
Than mountains
(Mountains etched against
The dome of sky)—
And now it is silence.

First it rumbled, clouds black,
Anger on quick gusts of wind.
Then it roared, cluttering day
With grumbling songs
And skies of darkened gray.

Now the thunder is silence.
The noonday light is blackness.

We walked into the field…
The daisies were trembling.


Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis

Beneath the Willow Tree

by Thomas Davis

Beneath the willow tree she lies down
beside the river that runs to the sea,
near the reeds and long stems of grasses
that fall gently to the flowing waters.

Has there ever been a woman so graceful?
She lies her head back and her hair cascades
Like willowy branches upon the bark of the willow.
She stirs, and her body moves in dance.

O, let the rain fall down from the skies!
Invite the thunder into the place of your house!
Rejoice that the sun is the cock of the morning!
Laugh when the wind blows through the trees!

My love is like a strumming banjo!
Touch her, and she responds with movement!
Speak to her, and her voice lifts in song!
O heart and soul of my love, do you hear?

Note: The love poems I am posting are from the earliest days of what is now a love affair that is 45 years old. I am looking back in time and celebrating who Ethel and I were when we were young and who we have been through all these years of our lives.


Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis