A bitter storm draws close upon the land
the rusty sky full of verse as a poet
Wind whispering in my ear, no, crashing
piercing, breath before the drumbeat of the Gods
A drop, so sweet, so wet upon my brow
Open eyes question the day’s weeping
A soft brush falls here, now there
The writer smiles for a simple moment
when all words are put away
And only feeling soaks my soul