Long white torn shreds flap
without let up on gusts
that lead the icy storm
 
which forces us to listen
which ears strain to confirm -
we aren't forever deluded.
 
just as life breeds ease
the winds rush to challenge
all our altruistic boasts
 
made coolly in warm haze
of privileged success
when luck granted rewards.
 
The blackest clouds approach,
rimmed in dusty orange outlines,
carried on fine-lined winds.
 
Each deed that lies ahead
of the cold, mindless dark
weighted dew marching near
 
Is lost when we scamper
for the nearest bricked box
below along the hillside,
 
dashing past those symbols
which jog our life's memories
of how we failed to grow -
 
all those homes, roads, forms
of the complete blessed town,
the stage for frail ambitions -
 
and naked before the torrent,
a soft, circle-eyed beast
cannot escape by clever excuse.
 
No, it billows above our heads
crippling with tremendous pressure
of water mixed with sand
 
and laps and pounds outside
through all the open cracks
as it this terrible nature
 
of justice come to judge
the weakest willed mortal within
who dies; or prays to live.