Storks stand in a tree,
gormless and grim,
wings outstretched and
reaping the hot sun.
We gawp and swear
at the heavens
through feather and gaping beak
that chews a soundless tune.
Naked trees are withered
hands that scratch
at the sky
to cover the watery
eyes of the Earth,
sighing hot
and weary for years
upon years.
#365DaysOfPoetry