How much power do you need,
to take from us?
Have we not heard already years,
half asleep, just awake, degraded humanity,
to hear?
Enough perhaps,
to hear the obvious,
our arms swirling.
Perhaps a groaning,
in another over-energetic cyclone.
Be neither comforted
nor distracted,
by thoughts of summer,
just elapsed.
For purring black felines
on your lap,
nor even the singing,
of domestic draughts,
through your cat flap
speak the language you need,
to hear.
Your arbour brothers
and their brides have,
in these shortening days,
hastening wet footings.
And as yet their arms be semi-clothed.
As such and sucking they stand vulnerable,
to that one time,
in how so many years,
storm.
Their time early,
too early?
Smote storm stricken betwixt,
the north and east seas.
Cat curled there around my bedding
and my lax hand around a cooling tea.
Dance,
partners of thundering timbre,
into more of…