The Storm is Brewing

The storm is brewing, I feel its glare

In the words unsaid, in your stony stare.

A hush descends, a quiet brood

That penetrates my stormy mood.

Unnatural calm, in stillness thick,

Lies heavily, as nits we pick.

Unsettled, each mind changes pace,

Recants, and brews, and can’t save face.

 Oh, for torrents wild and wet,

Appeasing stormy weather’s threat!

After the Storm

After the storm, the petals have fallen,

Gravity spoke, and persuaded the fall;

Sepals held out as long as they could,

But glue holding flower answered the call,

Relinquishing blossom, ashes to earth,

A dazzling litter of dying perfume;

Beauty in living, lived in full splendor –

Wrapped in death’s pallor, a beautiful tomb.

Every stage in life holds a wild and unique beauty; from birth to death, our paths hold deep significance and value.