Grey day

Construction sounds

Nails pock a dying world

In a winter wonderland

Chainsaws eat meals

Out of giants

And metal cats

Prowl roads with echo purrs

In smooth prances

A quartz sky

In opal petroleum sheen

Blares it's white light

Onto a dormant oasis

In the asphalt desert flats

Made from green hills and giant oaks

Laid low and square

A warming winter

Waits patiently

For fate's fall, fortune's feverish foot

Fewer and fewer giants power our bellows

Winter's wraiths

Wrathful, await

Just above cloud cover

Watchful, tallying

Transgressions to turn to turmult

© inkcloud