A Seasonal Ushering

Thundering thoughts take root in perfectly quiet minds So beware a tranquil palm at rest on the porch swing; it belies the force of a torrent wind And all along the ruddy horizon line it shall sit in waiting; Familial bonds can find familiar comfort in masquerading… Who seeks to sequester this wind I dare ask? Emanating from source like a blister of current through cable And I’ve yet to see the full constellation at night; For my sight requires the strength of prominent stars to burn ever so bright… Now don’t look to the foliage for that gust's prompt arrival! The tilting of the axis need be your only true North And while wilting of the willows is seasonal certitude; The timing relegates his soul to a plight of blunt servitude… From exalted rich to damned poor it eviscerates a sad few And leaves in the margins a sullen sap, duty-bound The horizon now aglow in a bellowing remnant blaze; Tying the desperate young man to its fixed, ruddy haze…