An August Day Poem by Andy Brookes

The long rocks of meaning a tumble avalanche thoughts
dulcimer sweet ringed fire

clouds roil on the moors edges black
flashes of fire rumbles low growl

the heather bends shaken quivers purple bell
as the large cold drops fall in plummeting splash

gentle streams become the raging torrents
tippling down grey backed roiling grinding

so swift a passage the rain ceases
revealing blue eyed skies and lark song.

behind the air is fragrant with moss and peat
kindly the sun beams down soft summer returns.