Pareidolia
The breath of breeze grows shrill and births a song
as racing billows crowd the edge of skies;
upon their nimbus brows a face forlorn
and in its midst the flash of angry eyes.
Percussion pounds the walls and taps the snare,
reverberation echoes all around,
while swept within its breath, a sultry air
whose mournful moans within the din abound.
But then a quiet quells the tumult's roar,
as silent cirrus feathers drift on high
where wistful thoughts are dreamt and eagles soar
among the clouds where children's wishes fly.
No sunset's slip nor rainfall rhythm heard
could feign escape when poet's muse is stirred.
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