Monday, July 08, 2013


Across the plains, thunderstorms build like tanks,
Armoring for war, forging allegiances in the battle for power,
Marching eastwardly, gaining the energy necessary to unleash a torrent,
Silently, marching, billowing from tall stacks, assembling energy.

As with Munich, storms, casting shadows,
Give pretense of cover from the harsh sun,
Beautiful, unimaginably white cotton balls, move without motion,
Promise the rain for crops, for pleasure--puddles for children,
All the while, the maniacs build.

Prophets proclaim the powers building in the west,
Talk of storm fills chit-chat and worries,
The storms are coming, marching, growing,
Neither heeding rivers nor forests, the war march is steady.

Schedules adjust to comply with a daily siege,
Sentinels shout from towers, preparations are made,
Cannon fire bares down on westward lands,
News travels by wire of the sieges.

Alliances are building against the danger,
'Tis the night that brings the downfall of the western assault,
Attacking the war-machines at their power.
Supply lines are cut, disabling the most vulnerable,
The siege's end is in sight, until the last cannon blast rumbles,
No light escapes night's chilling power.