I feel it coming.
The leaves dance, the sky- swollen,
A whispered sigh,
The wind begins to whimper.
The leaves chatter, hushing the sparrows,
A reverberated hum,
The wind sirens, the dark nimbus splay.
Their bellies heave and crack- bleeding mosaics,
A sonorous bellow,
I feel it leaving.
The leaves glitter in fresh sunlight, the sparrows sing of relief,
A contrite murmur,