Peter Dent
Storm
Too hot Too long the swelter
Of the day has ruled
This perfect sky Not worth
A glance Now evening builds
A dark that threatens Comes
The flash and circus rolls
Of thunder make their mark
On minds (the clowns of
Mischief they’re here too)
That look to nothing more
Than upsets See them come
Alive In terror glee The long
Horizons never closer Half-light
Numinous about the word
Page(s) 51
magazine list
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