Beyond the Seen

There's a storm over there just beyond an eyelid. There will always be rumors, but these wind-blown whispers are in a death roll twisting the sky this way and that. 'Fear me nots', do not bloom this afternoon, there are only dark flowers their blossoming jaws widening below the skyline. We drink tea, dunk cookies, ignore the tea leaves stirring themselves at the bottom of trembling teacups.