Hell hath no fury (Rondeau)

I fear the worse, of what’s to come
where ice no more, reflects the sun.
The carcasses of mighty trees
are left for dead upon their knees.
I scrawl in ink, of woebegone.

With quivered font, I shall not shun
but know my verse is far from done.
in bold I’ll write, but not with ease.
. . . I fear the worse

I dread but know, more ink will run
for natures, wrath is now undone
In seas of blue, the ocean grieves,
a mother mourns, but also seethes.
My quill awaits the storm to come
. . .I fear the worse