Brewding Storm
`
No one can tell (the difference is)
clear to querying mind(s) :
How is it I could not savour
the pungent heavy clouds
before the pulling of the breeze?
Further afar off, one imagines
future life daily waiting - awash
tranquil staccato whispers -
permeate my porous soul
after the pelting of the rain.
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
Added by Poetry Lover
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