the street
so quiet now
nothing
not a breath
of air
so still
it almost feels
a solid thing
somewhere
north and west
of here
there is dragon breath
lying red
across the land
they tell me
it is coming my way
close
and even closer
the air will move
when it comes
they say
the air will burn
then
I
as smoke
will rise
twisting
in a plume of blue
and grey
wait
I will wait
for
after all
it may never shape
to happen
and the street
outside
is quiet now
the air
is solid
and
so still
~
Frank Prem Poetry 
♡
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I like the atmospheric song of waiting, Frank, what might happen and what might not. There is still plenty of summer to come, we can only hope I guess, not to rise until it’s our time.
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A grim one, Steve. That’s my feeling. A lot more to come, and not much of it very good.
Still, breathing is living, so …
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Brooding and foreboding, indeed. Hope nothing bad happens!
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State of the world, Mick.
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