Urban Butterfly
What business have you here, In acrid air, to strain Through jagged glass and steel On a cracked asphalt plain.
Faint, shady memory Of vernal vales of green— Wind-tossed, long-lost, you fly Among this tortured scene,
Whose weight could pulverize Your grace with heartless ease; And yet you flutter, blithe And nonchalant—to tease?
Distant Thunder
Oppressive heat in heavy air; Oppressive light from summer skies; White clouds glow with a garish glare, __Menacing as they rise;
Oppressive stillness reigns: no breeze Rustles the leafy, drooping boughs, And only rarely from the trees __A lazy chirp resounds.
Then through the silence, faint at first, Yet rolling through the stagnant calm, The rumble of a thunder-burst __Sounds from a distant realm—
So distant, yet so ominous— The roar at which Earth quakes in fear, The rage of angry gods that draws __Inexorably near.
Hail, thunder! Welcome, roaring storm! I greet your wild and roiling violence! Drive out this crushing tedium, __Oppressing with its silence!