Storms
Clouds gather teeth and learn to roar across the moor,
They crown the hills with curtains black and batter every door;
Lightning writes a ledger, burns a page of brazen light,
And rain drums silver footsteps on the glass through all the night.
Beneath the tongue of thunder, fishermen tie knots with care,
They barter in the silence for the safety of the air;
The world leans close and listens to the hymn the tempest sings,
And even after morning comes, it keeps the taste of wings.
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