baptised

the air is crackling
with anticipation
a gentle breeze
of humid ghosts
dances through
the open door

thunder rolls
and tumbles
like an epileptic
acrobat
across the muddy
thunderheads

a still foreboding
settles here amidst a
Tuesday clutter
of unfinished tasks
to watch the growling
climax of the sky

and when it comes
it splashes dark
from the bullet drop
that impacts hard
a machine gun epitaph
upon the dusty path

another - then another
until the ground
is riddled with
a baptism to cleanse
the baking soul
of summer