with a raging
vengeance,
a gray liquid
animal he
threatens
our front door and
soon shall destroy
the house:
we scurry in panic,
search for sheets
and blankets
to plug the cracks
and keep us safe
and dry.
Suddenly somehow
River shrinks
to its usual
tranquil flow,
its normal self,
one hundred feet
below our empty
street, and we are
stunned yet safe
again, but who
on earth can
tell us how,
or when menace
may rise from
beauty once
again?
No comments:
Post a Comment