Did the white lightening strikes, alarm you?
Was the Thunders plowing, too deep?
Breaking, near to the sound barrier
And bleaching, the wool, of our Black Sheep.
The pasture laid down, with burned edges
The water piled, in puddles, near to town
But the storms ravaging fever
Would not, in any way, come down.
Nothing to do to appease it
But perhaps, caress its weary brow
Biding our time 'til it's full recovery
The sheep, bleached white, in the barn,
Are safe now.
The power and fear of this storm is vivid and clear, I feel as if I were actually there. Theo you have the ability to bring readers into your poems and that is a true sign of an excellent poet, I'll be back for more of course.--Melvina--
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you, my dear friend, for taking the time to read my work! Blessings and all good to you, Theo