For today’s prompt, write a view poem. Wherever you’re at, you have a view: maybe of a river or sunset. Maybe of a cubicle or a copy machine. Even the blind have a view of darkness, nothingness, or some other -ness. And that’s just being literal, because everyone has views on sports, politics, poetry, etc. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer's Digest
Harbingers
Lake
pitted by raindrops
that also fall, pattering,
on the tin roof
Birds call
and flit by
robins, crows, cardinals
other unseen songbirds
Still-bare trees
almost shimmer
with the verdant haze
of leaves about to burst forth
The rain falls faster
reflections of light like static
across the surface of the water
ripples, circles
A mallard soars past
audible rush of wind and feathers
to make a noisy splashdown
quack, and preen
Now he swims by
all majestic iridescence topside
and busy orange feet underneath
V-shaped wake trailing him, a royal cape
The rain cloud passes,
sun emerges
everything above reflected below
A view I will love all of my life
that I long for when I am away
How this place soothes my soul
All is well, you’ll be well, be still and listen.