The Omen
Upon the wire, the raven stayed,
Through gutter wind — rain and cold air;
It marked — yet none could name nor know
What stirred beneath, nor whence below.
The Strike
Beneath the slabs where weeds have grown,
Home to the slugs and things unknown —
A livid flash — then —
Zap.
The Still
No wing was stirred, no breath, no stir —
The dark withdrew, and nothing more...
Still. No movement. Rat no more.
EASTWINDPOEMS.SITE
Born Blessed in South Korea in 1969 and raised in Baltimore, I’ve built a career with 20 years in customer service and 10 years in behavioral health. The crowning jewel of my studies came when I earned the only passing grade of an A from a Harvard professor — a true master of the craft of Shakespeare
And the English language, whose guidance opened the gateway to worlds of imagination, discipline, and wonder.
Married for 25 years, I share the good life with two dogs (Isabella and Juliet) and one cat named Maddie. In my free time, I enjoy writing, biking, gospel music, and spending time with my pastor and friends.
