Screamwinds strip the snot from your nostrils
and send it fluming into the horizon.
Today, green lakes of fog purl around ankles
but it was not always thus.
Some centuries, lightning banged across skies
the colour of bruises; once, for six years
lava chimneys rose unsupported into the night.
And there are groans in blue and grey,
sudden tides of rooks - occasionally,
the sense of something far off and huge,
stirring,
like a body under a shroud.
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