Comments about David Griffin
A thunderstorm brews,
Heavy rain store slows it’s flow
This injured, hungry wildcat needs to feed.
Electricity sparks within its folds,
Itching to strike down its first victim
Black, grey and sickly white.
A coat of warning.
He stands exposed,
An open field his fighting ground.
No shield, no sword,
No chain-mail to protect him in battle.
He knew it would arrive.
He had been warned.
An ancient intuition said run.
He had time to flee,
But no, he was drawn to the danger.
For a brief time he was a storm ...