Weathering 13 lines for Jude’s day

The skies whispers grow restlessly apprehensive

Gone are glimpses of gold, grounded in grey

Opaque cloth for captured dead swirling copper leaves

Buttoning the hapless folk.  Lean hard into the west.

The growl of the winds so sure of portends

Beckoning the howls crying fast for the rains

Darkly Oceanic firmament carries its impeding wilderness

Whistling up skies, casting sadness on morning

Still land holds dry despite this ill suspense,

Shall blinded night tangle masked in effusions,

Will sombre silence be strangled to shrieking?

The horrified humanity is cowering coldly beneath

Tempestuously flailing charred statues of earth.

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Jonoboyle All rights reserved reproduction with specific reference, Copyright 2014

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