Stark

Stark

Intended to be suspended,
but thwarted
by the acquiescence of the tree
to the persistent burden,
the hanging chair rests
upon the sand below,
an inky teardrop caught
in the moment of impact
before dispersal,
a dark omen
in the bright, white sight
of blinding beach
and cyan sea.

Stark the scattered sky
in lowering agreement
with telegraphed foreboding,
the gathered stormclouds massing
in cerulean intent.


Line count: 18
Free verse
For The Random Poetry Contest, April 2023
Prompt: As per illustration.