Tag Archives: Weather

Smooth Jazz Saturday

Yep, it’s a smooth jazz kinda day in SoFlo–0vercast, chilly, gloomy. Perfect day for writing interspersed with some old school jazz like Chet Baker, Miles Davis, and John Coltrane. Some modern artists as well like Diana Krall, Norah Jones, and my favorite, Kurt Elling. Hope you all are enjoying your weekend wherever in the world you are!

Drizzle

dampening my
bangs patting
down my pony
tail assuaging
wet on my
neck tiny droplets
rolling off my
arms each one a
masseuse for my
throbbing soul

Pamela A. Rossow


Gray Mist

This morning was a foggy one.  Not too common for South Florida.  I still get caught up in the emotions of the mist just as I did when I was a child.  I used to be enthralled with the ghostly weather and would scurry to a quiet place to create, pencil in hand, scratching a mysterious story into existence.  As an adult, I still feel a connection with that young girl.  Only now, in addition to the dash to my quiet place, I acknowledge the uncanny sensation of ties to those who passed.  Who are now caught in a misty limbo of sorts, misconceived as haunters, who are the ones haunted.  I can relate to their restlessness, their shadows.  Memories, donned in disguise, creep in and stir up latent emotions that persist under the conscious radar.  I am left, like a viewer seated on a cold, padded folding chair, in a darkened room.  An old projector flashes images in black and white on the bare wall in front of me:  wet children in soggy socks smiling, laughing their way down a slip and slide,  mockingbirds shrilly calling, waiting, fluttering to land in my cupped palms, greedily gobbling crimson cranberries, a butterfly garden bathed in moonlight, the intoxicating, overwhelming perfume of  night- blooming jasmine, being cradled, feeling safe, protected for the first time in more than a decade, by someone who was my home, although I had been displaced,  whose frame wasn’t four walls and a roof, rather a soul enveloping embrace. The fog has lifted, somewhat, but the pregnant, gray clouds overtly hint at imminent, cleansing precipitation. . .

Monsoon

winds reversed
affected by seasons
I’m blown along
the all too familiar
precipitation and
pounding deluges
punctuated by
scorching desert
dryness
sea breezes?
hell no yes to
intense turbulence
drought once
more I’m seared
parched and thirsty

© Pamela A. Rossow

Rain

atmospheric condensation
falling liquid precipitation
running down my face making it
hard to see coalescence and
cumulonimbus banding
blurring

Pamela A. Rossow