Hyphae

There are rainclouds harbored in her
Atriums, condensate she can't wipe
Away from her glassy eyes.

Lightning forks, vein tributaries 
Of white light, pale light, a firework
Brilliance blossoming, thundering.

She floats high above the city's sky,
Vacant moons dripping in her wake,
Sown for the fallen in her war.

Sown for the fallen soldiers' snow.