Fifteen more tin the side yard,
The roses starting to curl around limbs,
The ambulances far way
Moaning down Spring Avenue, the trail of dust
Visible in the blue night sky.
Supper was late, the mid-term
Election reports mixing death with duty
On the glowing screen.
To breathe or not to breathe,
That was the question. Most used napkins, then
Burned them in the fire.
Sneezing commenced but was ignored,
People carted off for disobedience,
The Sick Police searching homes
For signs.
Our own door held its little
Bubo black as night, an electric
Socket plugged so it could
Blink, Danger, Danger.
We lost Mom last night.
Who will pass later,
In the deep dark of fear?
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
Perhaps "..Quiet Storm" will help rekindle old flames buried and long forgotten or express the love so deeply locked inside of your soul longing to be released.
Regardless of where you may be found in love this beautiful masterpiece can be