Beneath the biscuit-bitten moon of dawn

Something’s coming.

There’s a hint of something unknown,

unprecedented enough that even the howling wind has flaked

To something spider-thin;

To the bare wire frames of lyricism.

Since then, the sky has darkened.

And static has started to  skitter across asphalt and window-frames.

Listen;

Somewhere a god made its anguish heard

And loosed a sadness upon those ears that knew it.

See yourself reflected on pavement

And know that you are drowned.

Not just in the wetness of it,

But in light

from sky and man alike.

Watch as trees twist

To hieroglyphic shapes

And pylons conspire

In their own electric language.

Pull skin tight to your skeleton

And laugh-

Is this it ?

But as the storm subsides

Even sunlight hides

Fearing that

something

Is coming.