Silver Linings


I hear a cuckoo calling

Though the clock

Hasn’t struck the hour

Nor has the bell 

Begun to toll 

For anyone just yet.

The angel of dusk

Is gathering up

The folds of her gown

As her wings

Unfurl across the sky.

My thoughts fall down

Stumbling into words

A brisk wind

Stiffens my fingers

Around the pen

Making it difficult 

To move nimbly

Across the page.

Iron grey clouds

Billow into silver linings.

© Salem Islas-Madlo 2014