Reaping winds

Plausible siver tongues
cast venom into
the reaping wind.
to be disgorged
on arable ground,
despair the only crop.

Golden scythes cut deep
lancing the swelling boil
of corruption.

Crinkled warped seeds
escape, cling
to dark corners,
germinate and spread.

Fold your hands and pray
for gentle breezes to soothe
our wounded earth.