Beyond   the    field    and    over    rugged   terrain
I see a  woman.  She   stares   back   and   then   off
into  the   distance   where   the   tree   tops    move
and  the  flowers  grip  the  earth  trying to survive.  

There  is  a  storm  closing in.  Furling, whirling
channeling    my     inner     tempest,   I   scream
warning about those who  wander on this  path
But  it  is  lost  and muted - overruled by  forces
stronger than I.

These  gusts  of  fury. They grit their teeth and teach
in  wicked ways.  And  for  a  moment,  I  look away.
I want to  harness  these  changing winds.  I  want to
capture their uncertainty and potential destructions.

I  look  ahead  for  damage,  but  the  woman is g­one
and I am alone.


© A. Leigh