an inheritance

rumbling across the mountain's ridge
squeegeed by crusty granite
cold driven into the east
by the forces behind it

dark, damp, tall billowing there
sliced by white blue slivers
dumping it's bile upon me
loosed from it's quivers

the storm cannot be stopped or turned
it demands full remittance
of all that my actions have slung
-- this windy inheritance
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License

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