“My mind has thunderstorms,
That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words…”
Words come like curds
conglomerates in a wasteful wash of whey
after the rupture, the heavy humid hiatus
when the glass turns stormy
and cumulus accumulations ascend
dark majestic towers
electric lit and sonorous
then up and out of the aqueous
milky globules coagulate, float their way
in fat, fetid, ferments
these I sieve and consume, write milksop lines
and heat until the page is visible
Prompted by William H Davies – ‘Thunderstorms’ – a final offering and last OLN link up before the summer break from dVerse ~ PoetsPub
PoetryPix 
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