Static

There's a storm across the land
There's a storm across the nation
There's a static in the waves
And we can't quite find the station

When birds no longer strain their wings
Wind corrupts us while it sings
When telephones all cease their rings
Wind whistles with the tree branch swings

There's uprising in the band
There's a fire at every station
As the river rants and raves
Through a stone bed of abrasion

When words no longer tell emotion
Wind disrupts the placid ocean
When poets often place and portion
Wind carries instinct with the notion

There's a fear in every man
There's a flame across the nation
We are wind-whipped blistered slaves
And we cannot turn the station

by Royce Waxenfelter
1/9/90