The Coming Storm

by Christopher J Patton


It’s too quiet now.
Feel it? The future fury?
Absent. A ghostly rumble.
Hush. Hush, hush!

Stillness still, yet…
A puff stirring of air strangely different,
Coolly charged with ionic streams released –
Hush, hear it?
Did you? Did I?
Are you coming or not, false fury?
A rumble distantly distinct,
A rumble echo not.

Who’ll believe me?
Most see it not,
But, still I cry, “Hush, hush, and, obey – before you feel a drop!”

So quietly, softly they fall on favored cheek fat from not listening, now.

A flash. Was it?
Or did I blink too hard from not seeing?
Listen loudly,

Distant drums divine dance ominous
Death, destruction, disease and danger:
Demons dancing delight in delusion, deigning to deceive the decided not.

Be still and live to listen.
Inerrant warning builds in backgrounds
Distinctly felt by bumbling folks.
Feel the air; hear the faint breeze.
See the unseen flash of lightning
While yet it’s still day,
Bright and calm –
Around the ever-feasting pool party so distractingly drunk and debauched,
Yet carefully planned by false weathermen forecasting fair – yesterday, today and tomorrow…


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