Blackened storm at 11 a m Drops
sprinkling my writing windows like pellet
wounds while creek ditch gushes its cotton crops
of runoff on to North Lookout Spell it
out for me coward Sun how I brighten
this torrent blistered lightning flash thunder
crash landscape with hope while your space frightened
face dumps down beyond sight hidden under
stark dark cotton clumps stitched into sky wide
canvas Tell your strict reality how earth
trees plants and we feed from this cloud collide
grappling of nature energy our birth
continuum pelting near us on us
in us your hopeful return our bonus.
Roger Armbrust
October 8, 2014
