The skies grey, clouds like
rotten candy-floss
Shapes like dragons
moody and dangerous
The air still, not a breath
to disturb them
Not a rustle, or even
a whisper
As if in anticipation
of something to come
Fearful of an unknown
force
The odd bird twitters
a reluctant call
It’s music sounds
disturbed, wrong somehow
Tiny drops of rain fall
so small they go unnoticed
Feeding the hungry grass
that lies like a monster in wait
Not a squirrel to be seen
in the cover of the trees
Skeletal arms twisting,
reaching for the sky
It’s silent scream unheard
by any creature near
As it tries to break free
roots creaking in it’s pain
It’s shadow spreads,
obliterating any escaping light
Canopy covering all now
capturing everything in its thrall
There is indeed something
in the air
And it shan’t be still
for it’s eager to break free
Posted in: Poetry
Posted on Jul 6, 2014
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