black cloud a’comin

when I was a boy

I saw a cloud coming

towards our house

racing across the fields

black as my mama’s bible

would it become a twister

or simply bring rain and wind

I called mama and daddy

we rushed to the storm cellar

daddy brought his flashlight

mama brought her black bible

the storm did not become a

twister only rain an...

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conceived in a cellar, of

a Tommy home on leave,

mother waving mistletoe,

shortly she would grieve

official dad inert upstairs

exempt due to his arches,

Tommy back to trenches

bullets or forced marches

killed in action in the mud

in my blood's a war hero,

official dad a profiteer,

moral fibre less than zero

the duality in mistletoe,

fertile of ...

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