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 