Wind from the south and the north

It’s been a long time since I wrote to twitter prompts.

 

Nothing is certain,

the path lies beneath the brambles,

sky is full of unfallen rain

and the blackbird’s song falters,

but there are infinite maybes.

Perhaps the rain will fall

the sky will clear

and I will see you

pushing through last year’s thorns

to meet me.

 

Between the soft rain of dawn

and the fierce sun of midday

lies the shallow time that flows

stream-babbling and bright

where you and I watch the world

through the same eyes,

and the same dream drapes us both

in promised tomorrows.

 

Sun-gaze withers the summer grass,

the deep shade shrinking

to a tepid green puddle

and hollow frog-voices,

while in the north, winter waits

with ice in his breath,

and in his eyes

the withering gaze of death.

 

Wind from the south

and the stars are flickering

the leaves are whispering

on swaying boughs

while a hunter’s moon

climbs slow and glittering

owl cries twittering

as the south wind soughs.

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Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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