The trees part and there it is.
A perfect circle of peas,
evenly spaced,
And coolly waiting.
I look around, at the branches bent and dripping,
The mulchy leaves and moss a soft carpet
Rolled up to the stage.
I feel a fool,
But I step inside the circle,
Hoping against hope no-one will find me here.
A black lightning flash, so bright it’s darkness could pull you under,
Electric against a blank sky.
if I wanted i could reach and rip
And roll the sky away to see what lies beyond.
My hands tingle, and a moment sizzles.
I hold green fire in the palms of my hands.
And know I could hurl a firebolt at doubt,
At questions there is no certainty as to the point of asking,
At my demons lurking in the branches ready to
Devour me with shrieks.
I raise my hands above my head,
The earth tremors.
And then the moment passes,
And I am merely a fool
Standing in a circle of peas,
Reaching out my hands,
In the rain.
poemsaboutpeas 