Whistles might be bullets ripping by;
maybe hitting; blowing it away.
An invisible instrument of destruction,
known only by its piercing touch.
Cold and reaping, a predator.
Like a black widow's kiss.
A hidden agenda.
Like a Venus lurking in the sun,
deceiving, trapping, choking.
The harbinger of winter;
the chariot of the gods.
Like a tool of the devil,
it strengthens the flames
as they crawl over your skin.
Unseen torches exploit the exposed.
Hidden shields knock you back,
violent spears put you down.
Spiral forever earthbound.
Lay in dust.

Leaf. Poor leaf.

04/15/2010

Author's Note: Is this about a leaf vs the wind, or could it be about mankind vs the destructive power of weapons of mass destruction?

Posted on 11/29/2010
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