Still without birdsong
Silence like snow
Morning eerily quiet
Until the wind began to blow
Raindrops driving
Against windows like hail
Heaven is crying
Clouds in travail
Purple appendages
Hang threatening;
Cymbals and drums,
Electricity within
Bruised battered obscurity
Once wrapped in wool
Bandages of purity
Heavy hearted and full
Upwards, a lone vulture
Circles the hidden sun
Harbinger and omen
Of the storm to come