A Storm Approaching

Mark Trechock writes from the Great Plains, southwestern North Dakota. He published his first poem in 1974 and took a 20-year hiatus from publishing, starting in 1995. He retired from a career in church and community organizing work and is writing again. Recent publications include Jonah Magazine, Southern Pacific Review, Triggerfish, the Ekphrastic Review, Radius, Kudzu House, Shark Reef, High Desert Journal, Passager, Kestrel, Snowy Egret and Weber: The Contemporary West.


A Storm Approaching

Through a blue hole in the
sky, lit by the
unseen sun,

Nine vultures appear to
execute a ballet,
lento,

Surveying the living and
soon to be
dead.

Their wings do not flap but
tip up and down;
they coast.

Their ballet is not rushed;
something will die
on their watch.

The first volleys of rain
fall casually on
my head.

Someone across the street
runs like prey toward
an SUV.

The wing sign language above
says we can wait, we
can wait.

2 thoughts on “A Storm Approaching

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