A cloud without a sun
So dim, it sets the heart to burn
Across the wild redemption is heard
Awakening the unknown to be bared.
All around the drums of revolution is heard
Flashes and grey smear the end.
The rhythm on a flat, tempo rising in every note
Like a drum on a strut crescendo climaxing as it wrote.
In the greens,
Some total obiesance, others undecided swaying and bowing.
For the crawlers,
Roosting was early, unceremonious, devoid of squacking and flapping.
As the rumbling and tumbling heated
The scurrying and scrambling ended.
Roofs thumping, pallets sated buckets filled
Puddles forming, earth elated streams tilled.
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