Soul rumbles as grumble
dark bellows push
their boiling fist.
Hot drops, boiled rain.
Angry fats splatter
into faint signs, streaks of
early mournful light.
Fire waters bubble and churn
chained by conventions,
damned by convection.
In breaking songs of earth’s heat,
brash displays of prorogued grief.
Water crouches, fluid evasive.
As pain it cannot be broken.
Desire free to flow,
hurt a haunt of generations.
So strictures die
and violence will be
a multiple of passing times.
©️ Dai Fry 1st May 2020.