mackerel skies
i'm driving through mountains
on this blue gray evening
looking at the cloudlets in awe
i find solace and love
all the variations of softness
the pouch of the mammatus
forms a heart my mothers
i feel her smile enrich the air
high heaping rolls layers
of altocumulus
resemble my life
hole punched
next to a cirrus forming
long arms
with folded hands
praying for me
globular masses move
reshape and disappear
the altocumulus it stays
for the next forty miles
over
snow crowned mountains
it stays with me
arms elongating hands clasped
as i round the bend
a head and back appear
kneeling
multi-level
stratocumulus threaten rain
but in the heap
and height of the billowy clouds
under the protective chest
an egress a tiny sliver of light
not belonging
to the dusk and diming days
the night speaks
i stand in the cold alone
there is no thought of the day's heft
or of empty humming-bird feeders
the night air smells of burning wood
omnipresent and full
neighbors nestle for the night
curtains drawn
the moon suspended
pulling on clouds like covers
one by one house lights
illuminate dusk
tree shadows dance
on the white garage stage
clouds roll by like an audience
tinged with pink drifts
the night is wonderful
echoing barks break the silence
low growling motorcycles
and distant traffic
yet for a few hours
for a few hours stillness is sweet
the chill comforting
outside in the cold
unraveling
so gradual almost imperceptible
one wool thread picked at
we should've burned not cut
or with needle
pointedly pulled back
we did neither
it happens to me too
the search for keys in hand
we both laughed about it
through the tightest weave of fabric
fragments of time sifting mind
denying we knew we saw she thread
spun of torment thinning longer
as if being pulled
fraying
in the soft grey corners deepening
fear
burrows in both– us
errands now humongous chest
tightening fear
she called me crying i'm lost
familiarity catches the corner
of her eye
the thread
hangs crooked with bends
weave pattern reminders
aunts mother
snagged on places words
remnants minds edges
remnants
seventy years of worth heaped
high
tripping
family hope and promises
replaced with acceptance
as the last stitch is slowly
undone
Chief Master Sergeant, United States Air Force veteran, Pamela Peté, is a Poet, Motivational Speaker, Author, Goal Coach, founder, and CEO of Masterful Purpose, LLC, a global speaking and personal development company.
Poetry is Pamela's gift, and she has been writing poetry for over fifty years and has delivered her spoken word poetry internationally. She recently completed her MFA (Master of Fine Arts) with an emphasis in poetry at the University of California Riverside. Pamela ties her poetry into her speaking, which has given her success connecting with her audiences.
Pamela lives in Hesperia, California, with her husband, Larry, dog Kelly and One Fish. When she isn't writing poetry, she is enjoying her twenty-two grandchildren, gardening, and photography.
Her motto is "Wake-up on Purpose– Your Masterful Purpose!"
