What do you think of Two Seasons In This south: Winter And Hurricanes morning poem?

elyslund

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Intrigue misting sleepily down to Earth,
As warmth meekly unburdens greenery
From Winter-dormant twigs, branches of trees
Shaking loose from iced-mornings' tyrranny.

Once more, Spring begins. Thunderous trumpets
Herald this passage of delicate rites...
Salvaging the needed, discarding the
Useless. Harsh, cruel, violent. Easily

Seen as destruction of ancient rebirth.
Once more, Spring begins as it always has.
A clean, well-swept house is invitation
For Spring's intriguing initiation.

Storms are never functions of travesty.
Storms are the weavers of life's tapestries.
 
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