hold tight to the corners

of cool winds,

in this season of forever.


Insects buzz, molars grind.

Waves ripple the tall grass.

Tide breaks over

Eden’s ancient gate.


And in far reaching fires,

we wait for Khamsin winds

and desert grains. To fall

dry as stinging rain.


Conceived in failure and

nurtured with self doubt,

amarulence grows.


A corkscrew of pain,

as vision tunnels to eye

the heart of a malcontent.


An anthem of injustice rings.

Mighty bells of

beaten copper and tin.


Out here in this static heat

a threat is annunciated.

Tremble as gentle anger

whispers your name.


©️ Dai Fry 1st February 2020.

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