Atmospheres Grunt, The Homes Of Men Cringe Poem by james watkin

Atmospheres grunt, the homes of men cringe
Manic-shadowed of bough
Psychopathic winds have hold of.
An elemental row

Ongoing with factions of the earth;
With factions of the air.
Just so long am spared in sleep
Dispassionate can bear!

Eventually has set, ice-numb
All land, too long aghast;
With Sun, of his bright sword's extension
Of motivating past.

Whence comes the promise of counterstroke
To chair him savouring
A resilient warbler need look no further
Than it recollect spring!