To The Clouds

on

Dear Thunder,

Up into your wrath
I stand naked and afraid
I can not move I’m paralyzed
The picket fences bend
The horses neigh and scatter
The windmill churns blistering
The clouds part at lightning
The hairs on my body paralyzed
I scream eternal swears of pain
I am at your mercy pierce me not
With your sharp stinging rain
I fall from my elevated state
That my mother morning rose
In the perilous night to stave
The cold wind of the turning day

(Image:Pinterest)

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