THE ABORNING
Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn
April 7, 2012
T’was a fine Saturday early morning.
With misty pillows drifting in the dark.
A flash illuminated the growing unrest.
A slash before the grumbled warning,
Revealed phantoms aligned in tight tidemark
Each heavy hung with mizzle blest
Adorning that which slowly was aborning.
THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN 