Prayers from the Living

It whips legs, spins minds in a tumbler. roars with the discarded clothes of mad clowns. Bundles of fine bones and twirling feathers burst apart in a random turmoil, deer swim toward a gasping night. A mottled land shakes its muddy ribs. as a whittling wind hammers on. The sky has opened a double-lidded, dragons' eye, a pitiless tornado is upon us, it lands to lift and discard, then dances with the bobbing dead. All who dodge that swirling danger, thank a God, who like us, shelters in His bunker.