STORMS ARE BREWING

  1. The air around me is preternaturally calm.
  2. The leaves have stopped rustling and wait with bated breath.
  3. I hear the same voice, quiet and low, over and over,
    Speaking truths with strangers' tongues.
  4. The whine of an ill wind rises in the distance, its power fizzling to a puff that barely moves the still heat.
  5. But she's gaining steam and the front is moving closer, racing towards the center at twice the speed of light,
  6. Where I'm standing, only half-aware and mostly innocent.
  7. Dropped here by time and circumstance and a sympathetic bent,
  8. With no roadmap home,
  9. And very little to cling to when the maelstrom strikes.