Liquid Cannon Balls
The war of the skies in
contention with the Earth,
of liquid cannon balls shooting out of the
hostile clouds,
pelting the forests, the homes,
the temples, the institutions,
and the spirit of man,
the assembly of the angry clouds above the hills,
the upward and downward currents,
air of the hot and cold
with its frenzied blasting,
the nervous ranting and pacing
that break cadence with the
rhythm of the skies,
that twist and squirm around each other like
a boa constrictor does around its prey,
of lustrous blacks around
the black stained grays,
the aggressor and the passive,
choking the life out of them,
conspiring to go to war with the land below,
making battle plans for an attack,
blasting their cannons and waking up the angels,
shaking the planets in their orbits,
shining their lights and illuminating the skies,
shooting at the Earth with an all out blitz,
firing their liquid cannon balls,
aiming at the streams in hopes
to see them grow into raging rivers
that sweep everything away
and empty them into the sea,
not knowing that soon their ammunition
will run out and the raging rivers will abate
and form into quiet streams again,
and the birds will build new nests
and man with his constructive nature
will rebuild until everything goes back
to how it was before,
and the Earth will rejoice again.
Hail hail to Mother Nature and humanity
and the way they all fight back!
