Storm – a poem


Clouds are heavy in flesh toned hues
Animals ears pricked in knowing ways
Storm is travelling from distant lands
Birds of flight have stowed away
Then rain and thunder all around
Carving up the days remains
Lightning flash in strobe-like calm
Night like day, before the dawn
Crows form a group with murderous intent
Squawking their sycophantic symphony
On telegraph lines of analogue
Humidity hangs with crackling intent
Electrified oxygen, heavy on the bass
Forks of anger, electrified
Then comes the rain, of discontent


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