Written by: David Smalling

I knew after spring would come the fire
I have seen the summers where promise withers
In the toppling heat. I have seen desire
Raging in spasms like a tide that swells and shivers.
It's not the same when the climate comes
Like a cogitation. What shall we call them now? See
How the streets overflow? The old thumbs
Cannot hold back the surging masses that will be free.