Presages Of A Storm Poem by Angiuli Aguiar

I pluck out of the memory of the world,
On chords of rocks and tunes of trees,
The bird that round the imagination whirled
And set his nest on the primordial seas.

A barren eye and age, on desert set,
When the last image on land collapsed
And dust composed with dust of dusk met
And time and times of mind's self lapsed.

A gust of wind with truth for a voice
Expelled then the bitter bits of sand
And displayed to Sun's highest rejoice
Bones of stone and scattered statues over land.

The bird then brought back from the sea
A blooming branch of its infinity,
And laid over some broken marble arms
Thundering presages of nearing storms.