Storm

The air smells of golden strands on mango trees;
the sun shines on a magnificent, bright hour.
The bird's ears whisper from the breeze.
She watches the horizon, feels its power.
She sings in happiness – the orphaned kind,
Just then a lightness has fallen on her feathers, she finds.
She looks again, the disguising day still surrounds her with smiles,
yet she knows: a storm lurks within gentle miles!