Morning Poem, March 1, 2017

And so cometh the rain

Like judgement on the earth

It pours and it seethes like it will never stop

The wind, like a giant broom,

Sweeps the old leaves across the fields

They rise and tumble

And then hide among the tufts

Trying to hold their new places,

Quivering, as if in fear,

As if their brittle veins were chilled


The wind swells like the rushing of many waters

And the waters come streaming now

In rivulets and then in rivers, rising

Carrying away all that lay in winter’s wake


Copyright 2017

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2 Responses to Morning Poem, March 1, 2017

  1. And it blew shingles off my roof.

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