Monday, April 6, 2015

"Portents"--NaPoWriMo #6


Portents
Four days ago, the air turned orange.
Not the sky, the air.
A sandstorm covered the city,
but locals say one unlike
any in living memory.

Three days ago, a blood-red moon
traversed the evening sky.
The third of four many see
as both fulfillment of
and signs of prophecy.

Two days ago, the crows spoke.
Nothing new, but that day
other birds were silent, giving
crows the floor—their cawing
blaring secrets to those who can hear.

And today’s sign?

The azure sky serene,
the white moon past full.
The song birds give full throat
with caws of crows a steady
Background beat.

What is being missed?
What fate approaches?

The Sword of Damocles dangles.
How strong the cord that binds?

 

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