Fierce rumbles echo through the upper elevations.
Bare oaks bend south and ribbon-like grasses flutter in waves.
The roar of the lion rattles the windows and shakes the door.
It vibrates through the rafters and scatters branches across the lawn.
I sit cross-legged on the velvet sofa,
wrapped in the sheepskin throw,
muscles tense but still.
The majestic beast rages and howls,
foreshadowing the dangers that await a hubris people.
The Way I See It 
Lovely imagery in this piece. I particularly love the feeling of prey created in this line: “I sit cross-legged on the velvet sofa, wrapped in the sheepskin throw”.
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A lot of us have been writing about the wind lately, but your piece is especially original in metaphor and language.
I hope that wasn’t your car 🙂
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Our neighbor’s car.
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Oh no! Was that your car? I love that you made the wind come alive with the comparison to a lion.
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Our neighbor’s car
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Oh no! The contrast between image and poem here really spoke to me. The hard images and then the words that make something beautiful of it.
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