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