steam residues of that lullaby summer
and now the forehead frowns upon us
forcing us into a corner
and the potential arises in a purple
rumble and velvet air
a few drops but it never really lets go
we exist in this tense vacuum
puffing out a chest for fear of reprisal
we live under umbrellas expecting dinosaur breath
but all we get is birdsong
a faint dissonance harvesting the trees of intent
and the near silence of a flutter
as a leaf surrenders its hand to mouth exertions
as the ground itself cries out
but then the deluge you needed to wash away suspicion
fails before darkness surrounds all that you saw
