Stormy gales rage on with ardent fervour,
Spread unbridled havoc in their wake,
Shatter and uproot my garden with ardour.
Smithereens of destruction cause heartache.
The carnage spews unease and fear anew,
Teeming with uncertainty, the future is fraught.
This start inauspicious, mars the joy of year new,
Tempest casts shadows; respite desperately sought.
Happiness, good tidings, sunshine, and rain,
Humdrum feats, never to be taken for granted.
Hope rampant for my garden to thrive again,
How it flutters in me, like a bird enchanted.
And then I notice; amidst nature’s uproar,
A tender bud blossoms above the trampled grass,
Assuring me of propitious things in store.
As long as hope is alive, this storm too shall pass.
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