Do Storms Liberate?

by T.P. Wilkinson / January 17th, 2016

In the wee hours
wail the winds
with weary punctuation
Sensations
wait in minds
weighed weary
in fatal towers
waking at every blow
from sporadic detonations
Sand or snow
seeds to sow
needs to know
when opacity
windward
yields
when mild audacity
sweeps
loquacious locusts
from sun-starved
fields.

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..

This article was posted on Sunday, January 17th, 2016 at 8:04am and is filed under Poetry.