Motors drone far off,
closer, louder
with each heartbeat,
each breath that wheezes
in, then out.
What’s to come is clear
as the sky once was
before the crush of boot
and char of fire and oil
hid sun and moon and
morning from us.
We stand in place,
slinging stones of hope aloft
with shouts that echo
thru space and time.
Words in #writeoutloud are for warming up, stretching, keeping the writing muscles loose and flexible. Sometimes they are more.
The Smith Compound 