Creamy-Porridge Skies

The creamy-porridge skies Gave us drizzle at noon The sun’s drooping violet Palette squinted over the hills And hid there, for the clouds Were annulling her will. At one the rain shifted its weight To white withering gloom, With haste warmed to puddles Which watered the walk Sustaining the blade’s colored Green-gray fluttering stalks Which lashed in the wind As a whip’s cracking cord Snaps like lighting strikes Who writhe from the Lord With cries of agony found alone In those troubled with toil And so sunk their roots Deep down the soggy brown soil. Thus, the bleak flat land Has been deprived of defense To be destroyed ‘til the freak Winds hush and relent.