S. W. T. W. C. . . .
Everything starts somewhere.
It can be a rustle on the wind.
A gentle pouring of this into that.
The simple becomes ubiquitous, then in threes it comes forth . . .
The dawn brought a quiet that the aviator loves, dimming darkness gives way to a warm rose light.
"There! Over there!" the observer shouted to the pilot over the roar of the engine, "over there!" In a sign of agreement the pilot banked. They both observed the three huge brown loaves on the ground below. Not there yesterday . . . but for sure today . . .
Strange, lower, lower!
Strange the night thunder came in threes, the lightning bolts in threes, the strange new forms in threes . . .
"Lower! Closer! Lower!"
"The middle one! Closer - it's opened!"
Nearly lost in the roar of the engine's mad roar, a distant pulse, a heartbeat rare, sheer fear the rythmn scream . . . of things not right, not well, yet near . . . an ancient rhyme, the spell is cast . . . the inner ear hears it fast! "Ill winds mark its fearsome flight, and autumn branches creak with fright. The landscape turns to ashen crumbs, when something wicked, this, way, comes . . ."
A cauldron churns, emerge a thing . . . ever closer comes the wing. . .
A flash of yellow, no longer mellow . . . just born before the edge of war . . .
To arms too late, the flame is sent, the squadron shatters to its descent, engaged are we.
So soon our shells off the pink shields, first one then another fell, our comrades begin to fight anew, but soon they too will taste the flame, the dark the falling darkness stalks us . . . to wings to flight!
Unto the night . . . something wicked this way comes . . .
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by OldGuy59
Bookmarks