A Perfect Rose

This rose was blooming in our garden when we got back from our recent visit to Yorkshire.

This short verse that I scribbled quite a few years ago reminds me of the weather that we are threatened with today.

Storms

Birds are quiet in the sodden garden,

Air is heavy with thunderous threat,

Drowned stillness,

Cimmerian gloom.

Distant reverberations rumble;

Louder they sound, then the first flash dazzles.

That crash was too soon,

Too near, too chimney- shaking.