Rain roils like fire in flaming torrents,

sucking in the air, devouring vision,

thundering crackle, consuming distance,

sodden smoking of nature’s breath;

so do the heavens serenade the sighing

soil, drenching barren fear, sluicing

away the doubts of dying season, in

unexpected baring of glistening teeth,

lined at Winter’s long-dried mouth,

where voice of hope had been silenced,

flattened by dry, hard days and thirsty

nights, not even a sigh of dusty words,

as time surrendered to the certainty

of hopelessness, of looming death,

of crackled steps, wasted growth; until

that sudden moment when Life laughed

at Death, in glorious watered smile.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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