Wind in the rain

rare sun-glitter scattered

between scudding clouds

and the grey of sky soaked

swollen where stars will burst later

in the dark. Some

small glimmers of light

bright sparks from a dying

or kindling fire fly

with the quick flight of swallows

the soft fluttering of owls and the

sweet voices of blackbirds.

Tomorrow will perhaps be better.

At least it will be.

Published by

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.

4 thoughts on “Passing”

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