Evening Storm

May 1, 2014 | Poetry

[title subtitle=”WORDS: Ken O’Donnell”][/title]

Rocking chair branches

barren and bold

bent with a sudden wind,

this wind, but a breeze,

not a gust nor gale

gently tolled the dinner bell,

when out of the clouds

a wolf sprang

to swallow the moon

and quietly

devour the night.

Do South Magazine

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