STORM DAYS
This hollow, unrevealed sky.
Dipping, a magpie attempts a new meridian,
A straight flight to food or shelter.
The dead elms’ reaching fingers quiver;
Power chords, the cables roar.
We each and all must huddle and endure,
With the sparrows, with the ever joyous,
Garrulous sparrows – delicate and subtle
In their design, a clutch of heartbeats,
Warm, communal.
No malevolence in the weather.
No malfeasance in the storm.
Another day to sing about.
simonhlilly 
Lovely. Let the glaucous hues gladden the day.
We should, by that equation, ecstatic be!
encouraging Simon. Hope all is well. “Another day to sing about…” I’ll keep that.
Thanks!