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whomp whomp whomp
a mystery
voiced in the thump of blades
pounding urgently overhead
stirs my imagination
perhaps a screech of tires
a metallic crush
the scattered crackle
of fractured shards
were the precursors
of this percussive intrusion
suddened upon me
maybe a violent soul
forced an aberrant will
upon innocent unsuspecting
to be foiled by fate
or foolhardy valor
and now flees on foot
pursued overland
approaching
even as I wonder
or lurching blooms of rolling fire
leap from fir to fir
rushing wind-driven
hotly tracked
by the dousing smother
of this mechanized savior
thundering on high
intent to squelch the roaring destruction
feverishly consuming
the tindered old-growth
that surrounds this place
in which I dwell
whomp whomp whomp
the churning growl
and relentless roar
circling, circling, circling
in dopplered pulse
worrying aloft
drawing me upward
in fascinated speculation
anxious conjecture
until it slowly fades
trailing off into the afternoon
my curiosity in tow
leaving me
once again alone
in daydreams
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rob kistner © 2009