2am came to call.

Storm began to flicker, rise,

raiding every cell of wellness,

strength and hope

of morning light.

 

Her chest a bellows,

body bidding;

battles raging inwardly,

breaking down defence

on every side.

 

Shadows cough,

calling Time, spitting

past is present,

though the history is pushed aside,

ignored in a room too small

for the enormity

of now.

 

Tempest swells the brass intent. 

The King and I sit hand in hand   

in fierce light, while strings shimmer

syncopating rhythms

as the bellows break

to render final bidding.

 

With tiny tings,

a winter ends

 

Sibelius calls forth

a new beginning.