Magpie 84
How I love it when it lashes
smearing make up, clinging clothes
Then the thunder when it bashes,
stirs the sins I then impose
And when she throws her meanest flashes,
collects the screams among the woes
I pray it never ever passes,
and the venom in her grows
Carried winds make many crashes,
cars colliding, over-flows
Suburbia's pristine it trashes
no time first to presuppose.
For daylight's darkest caches,
released in violent blows
Never, ever please the masses,
but they're my sweetest repose
The aftermath, the swirling ashes,
kicks around in sunlight's glows
Only now there's tiny splashes
and the sweetest smell of rose
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