Others might see you as the omen before the oncoming storm.

The loud-mouthed, certain and confident callous bellow

That comes full of wind and withered joy before the year weeps and grows old

And turns young at heart Old Father Time into a dour, disabled dying fellow!

They might see you and rage as you do, all piss and wind,

Shaking their fists in frightened fury at what you may have wrought

And the golden amber hue fading as they recount who against they have sinned

Their conceit in conflict now chastised in thought.