from the Add-A-Poem Guestbook:
Georganna
Still.
Leaves dance a slow sway
but their music is not felt.
It’s the so-called
“calm before the storm” - glorified.
Air hangs
dripping with dread.
Suffocation threatens
if sanctuary does not
make itself known.....
And, if sanctuary does not enchant,
the sharp sting of certain doubts
from the clouds
will wear away any
Darwinian tendencies.
Music will halt. Leaves will fall away
with no rhythm to control them....
and the storm will rage.
