Mother Summer’s overheated breasts sparkles in the heat of the day,
Her sparkling fingers setting fires in the landscapes of mankind,
Flaming hair, dancing with the winds is being blown by Old man winter.
Awakened by the heat wave that was spreading to his domain
So rudely was he woken by the melting of his ultramarine icy bed.
He blinked his eyes and knew that it was happening once again,
But he had to smile because he loved it when she got heated up.
Slowly rising to the occasion he place upon his glacier foot shoes,
Dancing his way through frigid air and whipping them up for her.
Now the couple danced across the skies thundering as they went,
Their kids; Spring and Fall, giggled merrily at their display.
Being naughty children they spun around the dancing seasons,
Creating higher winds that brought the energies into formation.
Spinning from the heavens, pointing towards the lands below,
Blowing away whatever was within its fearsome destructive path.
As seasonal parents spank their children the clouds will roll away.
It is their actions that send the humans running for their hiding spots.
O’ Holy mother of terror is born from the dance of all the seasons.
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Reviews of "Holy Mother of Terror"
Reviewed by Sandy Hoynacki (Reader)
Reviewed on July 31, 2012
What a uniquely, wonderful writing...Clever indeed, Kate...
Sandy
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Regis