Oak leaves still, silent.
Infant sunlight too young
Yet...

Aging, growing stronger.
Hours put spurs to the
Wind...

Clouds banish blue.
Noon leaves tic tac,
Tic tac...

It begins.

Afternoon crashes.
Hammers ring, growl...
Thunder...

Oak leaves rage the
Atlas-rough
Trunk...

Twilight angels
Wash wings of
Silence...

Monday is complete.

elysabeth faslund

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Ernestine Northover (7/8/2008 12:43:00 PM)
Beautiful. The whole violence of the weather put so well in this poem. The start, The storm. The calm. Delightful.
Love and hugs Ernestine XXX

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8/29/2008 9:10:42 PM. You Are Here: ..Monday Storm by elysabeth faslund