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Gale
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The Taranis Cèilidh by Stewart Stafford
Lightning's jagged spear,
Burning the horizon bright,
Silhouetting empty tables,
No picnics by the waterside.
Waves sloshed against jetties,
A displaced bath on all sides,
Flailing tree chorus genuflected,
To the foaming vat beside them.
The roar of the gale rose and fell,
Tempest's tongue agitated potently,
Leaves surrendered in droves to it,
Sleep deepened in the storm's fury.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.
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All of a sudden a strong wind from the west came to visit them. For a short duration, sand blew in the air and filled the eyes of anyone stranded outside, blinding him, the leaves on the trees strived to tear away from the branches that held them so tenaciously, and the trees swayed dangerously hither and thither. The wind swept in with a howl and people huddled in their quilts were beginning to wonder if the tents that sheltered them were indeed pitched solidly. Or how because of the way the wi
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― The Thugs & a Courtesan
― The Thugs & a Courtesan
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