Stormy Breath
Wispy pearl grey clouds,
As if hunter pursued,
Slick across the heavens.
The winds stormy breath
Harries and blows,
Roaring and tearing;
Rips into the trees,
Their branches bend
As if to some ancient diety,
Tearing the bare boughs.
Mounds of leaves skitter and fly
Making spiral patterns.
Like a flock of tiny birds.
A lone deranged umbrella
Rolls and tumbles skyward
Snatched from an unprepared hand.
Then descends rolling
Causing havoc on the road.
Yesterday's news flutters
To paste itself on railings.
Whilst plastic bags ballon
Only to be punctured and deflate
As they are dumped uncerimonally
To suffocate the rose bushes.
Then as quickly as it came
It vanishes over the hills.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
Added by Poetry Lover
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