Sunday, November 23, 2014

















Chilling the ground and stilling the waters,
a storm in stride has begun to descend.
Bending backs, aging sons, slapping daughters.
Forming the stalemate bringing their end.

This night; this echo of sunlight wanes,
It grows darker in the spaces between.
And long has the earth, the weather vanes,
whispered all the things we should've seen.



2 comments:

  1. Your poem works with the painting and the gorgeous picture to the left!

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