Cloud No Bigger than a Man’s Hand

It approaches from the sea, too small
For thunder and lightning
But ominous as a closed fist
And what it will bring

Nearing us, growing larger,
Is completely unknown.
Beware the leaves blowing, beware
The spot on the sun.

All is turned toward it. It rides
The brow of the mind.
Soon, it will shadow one cliff
And a small coastal shrine.

Beware the leaves blowing, beware
The spot on the sun.
Do your work well. Behold
The work yet to be done.

More Poems by Dick Allen