Kismet
The wind arrives
with sleeves rolled up.
All day it stirs
the cauldron of the sky.
As thunder boils,
the clouds explode.
Each raindrop falls
to its appointed place.
Copyright © Alan Ireland | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment