SHRIEK Vernon Goddard

Shriek.

It’s the middle of August,

Dry year behind.

Think.

Reach ahead for words with legs,

Something to move this along.

Link.

Well, August can be the driest of months.

Parched and arid.

Trace, instead, the sea of seaside,

The ebb and flow,

Ebb and flow:

Lift of dew

Fall of rain.

Silver sliver of pond,

River rock and roll,

Laden leaves, dripping mist.

Waterfall waves

Headlong

Heady

Heading.

Dizzy

Drizzling

Dropping

DownPour

Like inked words

To mark the paper.

Outside my window

A wild sky

Shrieks.

Clears the dust

From a dry heart.

Vernon Goddard.

1st Draft 9th August, 2015