It is an angry hour.
Ocean spume strafes sentinel rocks
as storm winds shred the day.
Tamarisk cowers before a ruthless gale,
timid in its delicate beauty.
Shingle shivers, chattering loudly
with each icy wave that assaults the shore;
above, furious clouds
battle for attention in a swirl of indecision,
weeping with anger for peace lost.
However, anger is but a fleeting wound
in an eternal promise of perfection,
healed by rainbows and the coming of light.
Ah. . .all is well.
No comments:
Post a Comment