The Beast Smells Sweet
Sitting or standing outside
Which one I can't decide
The seething wind whips by
And hits me with quavering leaves
Torn vociferously from the trees
I snatch the shreds and grieve
Icy marrow and tepid air
Hair whips into eyes that stare
At a sun fighting through gray to glare
Like it's my fault.
Was that a drop?
I feel my pounding heart stop
It hasn't started pouring
The wind knows too by its snarling
Like a beast I smell it coming
But
For my life I can't tell if I
Am at the before or in the eye
I let out a sigh
How long will this endure?