Storms Coming
storms coming
it is far away
maybe a day they say
but it is coming along
banging like an empty kettle
getting steamed up it is
the shut up songbirds
burst nights hubble-bubble
double up on the dancy twigs
with a coo and clatter
tunes bud
in each swelled up throat
way over there
where the wild world gets lost
a storm is shaking
churning up a change
for no good
they who do not care
beware not
they plant little flowers
with giggly words
they jiggery-pokery
as if nothing will be wrong
and often
they might be right
who can tell until
nothing much now coming
big wind
blew itself out
in an old man's pipe
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