Disco Ball

Finally, the clouds began to unfold
as the storm tried to blow itself apart
to frame a post-zenith gibbous of gold
which lit the aurum of my midnight heart
as the wind chimes japed out a lively tune
as warm and fresh and full of tropic life
as the vernal glory oft blown in June
or fingered through an independence fife.

But then, just as quickly as revealed,
the blasting billows would as quick return
like some prohibition fast repealed
to throw some moonbeam medleys in the churn
as if chimes and beams were the discotheque
Shangri-la would have on the quarter deck.