Another Blitz (Poetry)

Season of bangs and anxious wakefulness
grey-misted hours aching for lost sun
the dampened air hangs heavy — mourns each tree’s distress
for leaves now shrivelled — Autumn’s glory gone.

Those yellow, red and russet flags that flew so brave
ripped from their posts by night’s marauding wind
pile soft in mud to hide October’s open grave
the canopy above severely thinned.

Dull afternoon is tainted by that firework smell
birds seeming shell shocked from explosive sound
that echoed round the hills as brilliant lightning fell
and repercussions shuddered through the ground.

So here we sit anticipating further war
and dread the sudden jolt, the screaming nerves
curse each aimless shell that strips our senses raw
and hope those bombers get what they deserve.