after the long dry spell
it was way too early to tell
clouds formed in a blue sky
lightning strikes a barren tree
leaving ashen, gray debris
and here we stand
wondering if this is an omen
will we part broken?
but alas, fortune looms
taking my hand, squeezing
subtracting all we are needing
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
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