OPEN STUDIO POEM #8
The sky spews rain from silver ribbons of cloud. It patters on the roof, unabating: Beethoven’s fifth symphony played by a ukelele orchestra in the park on a moonless November night.
The sky spews rain from silver ribbons of cloud. It patters on the roof, unabating: Beethoven’s fifth symphony played by a ukelele orchestra in the park on a moonless November night.
A November rainstorm is the whole subject here, but the poem's real interest is in how the speaker hears it. The opening is almost harsh: the sky "spews" rain, as if the weather were being sick. Yet the clouds are "silver ribbons," which is pretty.
Read the full summary