When Wind Gets Mad
When a swaying wind gets mad,
It’s addressing what is sad:
I‘d wanted to say ‘The Bad ‘
As stained as hating one’s dad
And as gross: dumping one’s lad
For losses through care of wad:
They’re crimes with stings of a bee:
The bestial we pay its fee…
An Eve a face reserves scowl
And the wind maintains its howl,
For having its motive seen:
A future like horror scene…
The startling sight of green leaves
Us consoles over what grieves.
Don’t their wrought dances of grace
Reduce the heat of men’s race?.
Note I Nature gratifies
More than kitchen satisfies.
Copyright © Chinedum Ekwobi | Year Posted 2022
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