The Passing of a Typhoon

Hearken to the cry of crickets / In the summer air; / Crickets in bamboo groves, / Crickets in the ripened fields of rice, / Perhaps a forerunner, / This strident clamour, / Of the typhoons to pass my way / To the vast cyclone of the mind / Where cruelty ploughs / The bloodred soil / And ill winds from nether worlds / Sow nightmares to suit the age. / Emotions still exist / But battered out of shape, / Shallow sequestered pools, / A muddy waste that a past / Shared with offspring and a mate / Left behind, / Its meagre debris, / Its messages still undeciphered.