Wisps of burning day seep through broken strings of cloud,
bullied along the sky by howling hush,
echoing the ache of somberness
felt within these bones.
Whips of branches knot pulling roots beneath
to stretching point, browned leaves pirouette
a macabre tribal dance to welcome a strange wind,
from a strange land.
Bare carcasses of trees lick and nod into submission.
Bowed bark, and ripped anticipation-
as darkness descends in bruised hues,
painting an otherworldly inferno,
inhabited by dark shadows,
and the urgent need to find a human soul,
pure enough to cleanse the fallen angel.
A simple cacophony,
of nature’s anarchy
It’s violent concerto
has my empathy.