Stain the eastern sky,
A bloody sun shoots
Purple clouds with fire.
The chiselled edge
Of nimbus mountain peaks,
Loom ominous above
Ash blackened spire.
The clingy humid air
Of summer days,
Hangs heavy on
The torpid world below,
No bird song echoes
In the tinder wood,
And lazy pike doze
Where the rushes grow.
Sweat soaked locals
Cower in public bars,
Stout grumpy shoppers
Crowd the freezer isle.
The whinging children
Bother fretting mums,
One soul exhausted
Breathes a dying smile.
Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2011.
www.gilbertverse.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment