Before the Hurricane
the chill
as tall trees sway
in unhurried warning
the smell
of stormy flint
as the sky turns green
the silence
when the birds and frogs
have fled to hidden places
the urgency
to prepare one cup of tea
before everything goes dark
Twitter: @WomenWhoServe
Editor’s Note: This spare poem demands attention via the imagery, and of course, the killer last line.
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