Storms Coming



Black cloud embrassing the mountains

Wind batters the aluminum siding in stacatto rhythms like a drummer not sure when to come in. 

hair lashes across my face as my breath is stolen

Tree branches scrap and scar the walls

Birds shout as only the brave or very foolish attempt flight

It is a good wind cleansing the earth

But I am glad to finally be inside

The woodstove comforts with a heat only it can

A wonderful day to make art as the wind creates, displaces and redesigns the earth. 

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Jumble Spoiler – 03/26/15 | Unclerave's Wordy Weblog

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