The storm is coming.
Funny how the wind knocks,
three times, four, a dozen.
Soft little brush strokes tickle
the fidgeting fingers of barenaked trees,
whisper ‘Forget decorum, dance, I’ll lead,
I’ll linger, I might break your neck,
three times, four, a dozen.’
The storm is coming.
Britta Benson is a happiness & poetry blogging, circus skills instructing German, a writer, performer and linguist thriving in Scotland, her chosen habitat since the year 2000. She runs a creative writing group and writes a daily blog, Britta’s Blog – Letters from Scotland brittasblog422041504.wordpress.com as well as the poetry blog, Odds & Ends oddsends707138946.wordpress.com. She also stares out of her window a lot and drinks far too much tea.
Selected by the editor as a featured submission, April 2022
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