Poem: “In Years to Come…”


In Years To Come…

The Ancient One ignites the air
North easterlies with mighty flair,
Roar down the green and grassy plains
Flattened by the thrusting rains.

(In a small den on a high hill
Wolves huddle close in the stormy chill.
Lean eyes flash the bolts of light
No howling at the moon this night)

A birch falls onto flooded grasses
Seeds are carried to barren places
The storm that thunders, pelts, and scourges,
In years to come, lush landscape forges.

Michele Marie


About Author