An Ill Wind
D
David Wood
0
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Cold stars look quietly down
As an ill wind wakens and
Begins to gather pace, magpies
And blackbirds can only watch.
Dark clouds gather casting their
Shadows darkening both sun
And it's lover under a temper of
Billowing power.
The scraping sound of Deaths
Sickle slowly being sharpened
Syncopates to its own beat to
An unsuspecting audience.
Time looks on unimpressed as
Time has seen it all before
Saddened that no lessons have
Been learned.
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