Broken Branches Appear

Distant howling dogs cringe worthy
The dry wind of November
Bitter in its ancient existence
A quick look at where the sharp
shooting luminaries are tonight

Branches fallen on the greening soil
I know from the daylight
I'm feeling my way around in the pitch
black of the night lit by my little
lamp that flickers and the arranged
space lights a million light years away.

Do branches just fall in the heat
of the day or night because they
must and the tree finds them
a burden? Did arms bring them
crashing onto the ground?

The barks of the hounds echo
like magnets of rare earth
plunked down in a thousand
chambers now called my brain
they do not let up, stirred by
my breathing, as only the crazed
the starved and the bully would do.

The air now has cleared 2 days
of non stop burning, now I know
they burn fields a quicker more
efficient way of reducing plants
to carbon, more black to the mix
of gray cement, broken houses
and exhaust pipes, the cacaphony
of severity gone over the edge
bringing with it branches, dogs
and children throwing stones.

Here comes the synthesizer.
Here comes the force.
Here comes the witch.
The wailer.
The toughened wonder
who will set this sickness
straight till there is no
more reckoning and no more
madness and branches will bend
bend
bend
in the winds that are rapidly changing.