before the fires come

this is how the dryness deafens:
our ears fill with static 
instead of wax

and cicadas stitch 
rhythm and air 
into one painful blanket.

the bush crouches
stubble tired, its dry throat
hacked to splinters, watching

summer rivers melt to nothing
boulders brought out like blisters 
rubbed to friction in their beds.

lightning’s stab blights a
bended knee - Earth’s red pain
as she genuflects again and again.

oh see the ghost flames that loiter
horrific pupils in trampled eyes
long before the grim bellow

of a bush-fire's stampede

written for Miz Quickly’s image prompt:

13 thoughts on “before the fires come

      1. All good. I’m bunkered down with the kids, and Darren is getting a night off on his own. 🙂 Although he did have to help our neighbour wade across – she couldn’t drive across, so he met her at the creek and drove her home from there. So he hasn’t entirely had a night off.

        Liked by 1 person

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