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!