Occasioned by tonight's weather, this sonnet is a mood poem.
A Night on Prospero’s Island
From behind the clouds the moon
Emerging brightly in the dark night
Shadows over stone and ancient rune
And the darkness of the barrow wight
Now the wind speaks, rustling the trees
There is a faint echo of a chanted song
A time of haunting melody, of unease
Blowing, blowing, all the night long
The sea, foam flecked, across the sand
The bay is empty now, glistening white
Far the journey to the near grassland
And in water, dances there a sprite
Stranding on the moonlit shore, staff raised high
Prospero conjures forces of sea, shore, sky
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