Apr 6, 2020
The winds are enraged
Dust pricks my eyes
Falling trees
The baby’s crying
The glass breaks
Petrified crows howling whistles
Eagles scurrying back
To the nest
Squabs clutched and aghast
The parched wind
Asking for more
We’re all blinded, choking
Shudder not, pray
The rain is a few miles away
--
Abbey is a wordsmith, poet, and freelance writer. He spends most of his time swimming in a sea of words and prefers staying oblivious to everything else.
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Abbey is a wordsmith, poet, and freelance writer. He spends most of his time swimming in a sea of words and prefers staying oblivious to everything else.
