Bells and whistles,
The wind it howls. 🐺
As it rips like razors,
Through the town. 🏡
A steam train coming,
I hear the sound. 🚂
And in its wake,
some trees are downed. 🌳
They treat the clouds,
As toys and things. ⛅
Dusting them full,
from metal wings. ✈
Leaving streaks across the sky,
For magic to happen after they fly. ∵
But is it magic to interfere,
With the workings of
our stratosphere?
To rain despair,
Thunder and hunger?
Or is just a selfish blunder?
Time will tell,
And it will tell soon. 🕣
When bitter medicine,
drips from the spoon. 🍳
Held in Mother Nature's hand,
For those who try
to change her plans. 📖
-Mickolas
This has been poetry from a proud member of the 
