Poetry-Thing Thursday: Thunder and Ash

Thunder and ash.
Bronze and brass.
Scenes of a decrepit fire,
burning beneath city spires.

They came first for the village,
the women and men,
leaving the children,
as if already dead.

They took to the forests,
to make amends,
’til once more it came,
’til once more it reigned.

It took the eldest first.
Then each one thereafter.

‘Til one-by-one,
blackness came.
Swallowed them whole.
Ne’er to be seen again,
save by billowing thunder,
and ash ’pon the mountain.

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