Cataclysmic fog stains blue iris grey
Violent, splinters against the window
Light fades; darkness, sky dove then ombré
Furious wind, thunder cracks. Crescendo.
The tempest’s blustering voice: wind whistles
That stoic mirage, a hovering cloud
Surges; at faintest trembling bristles
Wretched swells beneath solitary shroud
Imbibed, still tumultuous skies flicker
Riotous voices whisper and resound;
Transgressions past in vaporous liquor
Propel fresh ghosts into burial ground.
A thunderous silence held ransom
Inside its whimpering hostage home.
-M. Ray Hall