Coda

The whirling clouds we feared
appeared in every spin
defining zigzag paths,
as patently within
the heart a din
was heard, as ruin neared.

The sound, a hustling train,
gained and would not end,
like iambic verse,
immersing my numb brain
I may not mend
but only curse the rain.

The sky became a bowl,
rolling as it tipped
a heaven's full of water
and slaughter, as I gripped
at trees that slipped
and lost like me their soul.

In a sheltered garden
hardened walls enclose
us sitting in the thunder,
under sodden clothes.
We held a rose
that gave our love full pardon.

Royal Rhodes

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Royal Rhodes would be pleased to hear them