While we put on the tea kettle...
The wind gnaws at window sashes
Growls like a dog with a bone
Hurls and swirls russet leaf-ashes
Plastering autumn’s gravestone
Bidding stragglers to take cover
Underneath awnings that drip
With tears of a jilted lover
Burned by tamed flames of friendship
Turning ruddy, countenances
Sallow, for lack of sun’s kiss
Jeering like a rogue that dances
As if nothing was amiss
Raking treetop’s naked tresses
Shaking hatches battened down
Hoisting the hemlines of dresses
Making modest matrons frown
Where the heart like a wild stallion
Pounds like hoofs on rib-caged turf
Conscious of wraithlike rebellion’s
Rising, rolling, roaring surf
Boisterous, good-for-nothing rebel
Rattles doors with cold, hard fact
While we put on the tea kettle
And pray the roof stays intact
© Janet Martin
Jim just called to make sure I've 'battened down the hatches'!!
the ominous moan of this morning is turning into
growling gusto...
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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!