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Poem
Drawing the lines across the sky,
Stormy lights and roaring drums,
Rain the nakhlites that fall nigh,
Facing the fate as it comes.
Embrace the patches along a shoal,
Mist in the heart so remote,
Being one, only and jolly whole,
You’ren’t a sun to glare or gloat.
On the surface it’s a serpent,
A solemn force holly and brave,
Wherefore we shall not perpent,
But drop in-a-sec rogue and knave.
Whereof one could slay or swerve,
Or be a savage chewing on a petal,
It’s better not to lose a nerve,
Or get an antidote to settle.
Don’t be salty, hold no grudge,
Rise above the mighty waves,
Taking nothing into the graves,
Forget about the final judge!
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