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.


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