It was a night of sulking darknesses

there in the distance, clouds thunder
raining tears down the shanties

crickets scratch the silences elsewhere
as winds bring the smell of ash home

in their thousands, mayflies clash
for a swab at an orb
hung hazy into the shadows
canoodling the trees

foreboding come thoughts clouding

the morning after, the stairs are awash
in swarms of broken wings
and shattered dreams

a newspaper's thrown across
there are deaths:
heaving at the heart.