Dark winds whistle
missiles at my trembling windows
while maelstrom clouds swell,
twining soft, white fluff
into looming sky-shadows.

I stare out from the rattling
view, the bleak storm maturing
outside. I am half asleep, spralwed
across an age-stained leather loveseat,
the lights off inside the dead house.

Inside, natural purples crawl up the walls,
the storm tints and sparks the room,
craming a devious, secret strength in the house.