The tempest
Of the storm
Is threatening
The skies
With great sweeps of
Rage that have the trees tops
Pitching perilously
Like ships at sea
They roll with every wave
And mighty swell
And beat the air
Like giant brooms
With every angry gust
And I wonder
What the fury is about
What pent up sorrows
Or frustrations
Have gathered in these heavy clouds
That whip across the
Darkened afternoon
What emotions held in check
Too long must now erupt
In petulant outburst
And rearranging of the heavens
A strange blue cricket
Has landed on my porch
The likes of which
I’ve never seen
A little alien soul
Blown in from other shores
Off course before this wild wind
And what of the poor birds
They must be clinging to the nest
With eyes shut tight
And praying that they built
Foundations strong enough
To weather and withstand
This twisting, writhing ride
Do you think they knew
To batten down the hatches
Do they bail for all they're worth
Amid this torrent
And hold their breath
Until the surge subsides
One lone bird
Is singing
To the storm
A brave attempt I think
To keep his courage strong
And I admire his approach
And valiant song




Sara Mathews     2016