Out on a night of thunder, thunder
Under a sky that strives for day
Gallops a stallion and rider
Racing the light on Lightning Bay.
What is the news he bears so urgent
Surge of tide dares not delay?
What comes upon us? What intent?
On sea or under? None can say.
Above, dark cumuli are swirling;
Breaking dawn now dyes them red.
Bursts from the bank a cloud of starling –
Swells and murmurings of dread.
Does the hooded rider bring
This bloody darkness on our head?
“Sow the wind,” the cantor sang.
“Reap the storm,” the lector read.
Herschel E. Moore, September 14, 2018