Storm
Sky bent, whispering thrust, loud with bending, the fending friend, Thankful I am, Your reaching arm, staving the blowing barn.
Oh see, the debris flying freely, the smack, then the thrust, damage frothing, day growing dark.
Fear, seconds growing, mind seeking slowly, reaching what can come, lash of the internal whip, rising slowly. Not nearly done.
Wrath, of natures near, scream to awake, the reverence of the stake.
Reminder, of mother earths sphere, the slap of abuse, to shuttle us awake, push of elements, stormy fate, brutal quiver, till we awake.
Copyright © Dennis Faherty | Year Posted 2016
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