Early Poetry

Blood red clouds fill the sky

Look towards the sun and wonder why

The breezes bring a scent of dead

Wonder if it is in your head

Then you see others looking about

On their faces a shadow of doubt

Something strange has taken place

You can see it on every face

Now the blue sky turns to green

People once kind now turn mean

Clouds once white turn to red

Common now becomes blood shed

Faces go from bright to shady

Then you think that maybe, maybe

Maybe it will pass by soon

Maybe bright will shine the moon

Maybe things will soon be right

When this day becomes the night

1980