Day 341 – Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Northwest Paradise

Billowing, tumbled clouds that blow,
From surge out on the sea,
Tossing, turning, torn apart,
As if ‘twere done with glee

She’ll snatch them with her stalwart hands,
And smash them on the shore
Trees and branches hurled about,
And boats ripped from their moor

Birds of every breadth and size,
Take cover far away
And creatures huddle closer still,
Who suffer light of day

Wily Spring, and rains she’ll bring,
Until we’ve paid her price
Alas, it’s just a shitty day,
In Northwest Paradise

© Maureen (Mo) O’Brien
C U Tomorrow,
-Mo