the hurricane

rain upon the window pane
wind blows the weather vane
stepping stones the slate is cold
all signs point to this way home
trees surround the leaf strewn ground
birds have flown somewhere south
the hurricane brings much doubt
east coast beaches will not rest
red flags across the chest
seagulls fly in circles rapid woe
angels watching over
waves spill
close for an insecure shore
as dare devils couldn’t ask for more
the less I know of love
the more I love to know
the moon
becoming full
almost disappears
a simple silver sickle
whispers in whimpers of winter.

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