August 5, 2014

 

 

And in the heat of

such a storm,

words spat out

in bitter form.

 

Not meant, nor true

and just like speed,

gather momentum

as hot air free’d.

 

And then the calm

that surely follows,

when swifts arrive

and dance with swallows,

 

to lighten the moment

and distract the mind,

making nonsense of the past

now left well behind.

 

And as the streets

dry out from the rain,

gone is the anguish

one can’t explain,

 

that in the heat,

of such a storm,

built up and bubbled

in grotesque form.

 

 

 

 

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