poetry & things

Storms of home

I watched

first the thunder

booming, black of storm

All the gathering – flocks, clouds

leaves piled, blew

Windy gray the day deepened

void of birds singing

Breaking branches – cracked the gloom of dawn

all the scurry, dark forest floor so weary

Soon the rain began – a flood

death’s pooled lake of drowning

Ashen skies of furry, tumultuous blowing

ripped awake the day

Washing wet the soiled

stains of blood

my soul

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