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