The windy incoherence rushes loud
And harsh across my eyes, all cruel and cold
And dissonant, a reckless gyre that, bold
And merciless, blows fast 'til all is cowed
Beneath its rise. As I escape the gale
Into my car, the roar subsides: it's then
A muffled whine, 'til sounds here once again
A different cry: eight cylinders exhale,
And then the wind is gone, its voice suppressed
And faint against the synchronized refrain
Of that V8. Unheard and scarcely seen,
The storm around the Mustang shakes; at best,
Defeated and, at worst, forgot; in vain
The zephyr grasps my feral-maned machine.
1 comment:
Oh, wonder of wonders! I LOVE this one! A marvelous and capable tribute to modern life and reality. This is too good! Awesome!
The imagery depicts the situation beautifully, I can just see and taste almost every bit of it. La, but I want to write like this!
You have excelled methinks in this. A superb tribute to the reality of blustery, stormy weather forcefully attacking man, yet he escapes handily in to his (very cool) machine and defies its strength too effectively. The imagery paints it beautifully.
This was worth the wait. Now I only want my own copy to frame.
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