What fickle mischief passed this way, chaos in its wake?
Howling tantrum finally run its course
The calm after the storm finds me bent and bowed,
Waiting for the axe to fall.
For the axe to fall.

Waking to the weather just pale moments from the dawn
Random shadows flicker through the shades
Caught in tangled branches and hung from shattered heart,
Fancy flown in fear from danger's face,
Flown from danger's face.

Splintered limbs, once supple, now in supplication strain.
Scarce shelter from the storm's cruel, random whim
Wrap this hollow heart in hope and guard with bark and bite
Too weary now to go against the grain.
Against the grain.

Thought and Memory: two old crows haunt the canopy
If the bough should break where will they fall?
Preening raven wings, raucous screeching turned to plea…
Who will remember me?
Remember me