Bruise colored clouds extend like a claw from the east—
blinds slowly covering the sun.
Pecks softly play treble melodies on the rooftops and
windowpanes—
watering everything to grow.
Gusts howl into the trees as leaves spin off like dandelions—
rushing away from their homes.
Claps and roars through the dense grey—
stirring the quiet ground.
Like a lid closing the pot darkens with sharp shadows
sparking—
tears falling frantically.
Yellow knives stab downward without warning—
surging and igniting the night.
Curved streets fill with sky water creating menacing seas—
cars washing off with the tide.
Homes teeter with the ululating waves—
drifting sideways.
Sails extended from porches while Poseidon’s hand swipes
them away—
altering their routes.
Most crash, splinters confetti the air, and are seeped into
the thick river—
joining the homesick dead.
Only one takes the laming waves, pounding wind, and curt
whirlpools—
not being chocked by the hands of time.
