Storms
1.
Rain in the offing,
Rhymes dead at birth,
Recompense masking
Its rage.
All who would shudder
Now shudder as one --
To those high above
The good earth.
2.
Convulsions conscripted
Are girded for gore,
Their avatars painted
Bright red.
The mercies of abbots,
The lessons of sin.
Don't work with the
Bloodthirsty blind.
3.
Those who believe we're
Malevolence-free,
Have never perceived
What they see.
Yet, logic and nuance,
So weak against pain,
May fare even poorer
In wind-driven rain.
JAD, 2021
Tudor Place 