Omens

Threatening sky

In late August

There is an odor of menace.

Green machineries still function.

But leaves here and there

Delineate their shapes in brown edge.

Flower petals desiccate, drop, disappear

To leave behind the pregnant tip

Swollen with prophesy for the coming year.

Shafts of heat still lance from the Sun

But unsteady, unsure of power.

The sky enrobes its blue

In gray smoking towers.

Itinerant short rains

Punctuate with a sometime thunderclap

And a gleam of blue light

As if a huge and heavy door

Blows open momentarily

To reveal an angry fate

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2 thoughts on “Omens

  1. Apocalypse now, re-occuring – according to nature’s play. My first thought had been: man made climate change of loitering, exploiting.

    Like

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