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.
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