What lurks unknown in fearful fraughted towns It flits in shadows watching silently With dire eyes and looming eight feet tall The birdman waits for you to walk alone He slowly stalks his prey throughout the night And never moves unless it’s back is turned At first you’ll notice him just up the street But by that time it will have been too late You walk but when you turn around again His owl-like face the last sight that you’ll see
The squall rousted the last of the roses, a flutter amongst the mango blossoms. The storm billowed with savage abandon, a waterfall cascaded down the wall. Lightning graffiti scrawled across the sky, charcoal thunder rattled the fogged windows.
I held her trembling hand and stroked her back as she leaped at the sound of every crack. We breathed in rhythm — a steady tempo — in-out, in-out, our tempest ritual.
He came to report a discovery of roe while cleaning the rohu for lunch. Spicy fritters added to the menu — swift improvement to inclement weather.