By Marilyn Zuckerman
I find myself at Skagit Bay
on a glorious sunny day—
following weeks of leaden skies
and much needed rain,
watching a pair of red-tailed hawks,
one settling into a tree
spreading his wings,
showing his tail
while his mate’s out playing with the thermals,
two eagles guarding their huge cradle-shaped
nest at the top of a tree.
Now another hawk
makes for our windshield,
sailing away just in time
over fallow fields,
end of the season pumpkins,
the futile search for snow geese
and the empty road.
Finally we chase the sunset
through traffic down route 5
all the way home to Carkeek Park
to watch its glowing plunge into the Sound,
the light reflecting
upon the deep red maple before us.
So strong it knocked me over as we stepped out of the car. We could hear the seals barking over the noisy white caps; and there a small sailboat, its crew of one sitting deep in the gunnels, knowing one pitch would plunge him into the freezing water.
Seagulls struggling against the gale while hang gliders, rising and falling, ride the thermals one moment, the next dunked, dangling into the sea only to be dragged to the shore.
Walkers wrapped in rain gear, scarves and ear muffs—one brave mom pushing a baby carriage completely covered by a red blanket stopping only to adjust the cover while she turns her back to the wind and resumes texting.
· · ·
Wherever we are these days, weather has become central to our consciousness as we become aware of the extreme turns it has taken. Floods, droughts, fierce storms and sometimes, just constant rains are hard to ignore.
As a result, I have been working on a long sequence of poems about the weather.
The two you find here are examples of that.
One expresses the impact of a rare sunny day that lifts the mood and sends flocks of birds on the move. The other poem reflects the violent presence of a windy day.