Weather Vane

Wintry White lace
drifts through my mindspace
etching out images
unknown to common sight.
One express demand
worries at my grand plan,
how to follow laugh lines
in flight out of fright.
Juries listen closely
to tales out of turn
spun so very grossly
it’s very hard to learn
what is True.
What to do?
Singing of silence
doesn’t fend off violence.
Dancing ‘neath the Moon
never keeps out harm.
Transfixed in wonder,
still we may blunder.
But caught up in the tune,
in the moment, in the form,
what seemed obdurate
dissipates into rain
into storm.

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