The urging of the storm

I opened the new Oracle and the first and only words to leap out at me were ‘storm’ and ‘urge’.

Day breaks in gold
a mist of silver-green
and pale eggshell blue.

It breaks in cockcrow
the barking of a distant dog
woodpigeons.

Light spreads swells
sweeps the shadows beneath the trees
into the hedges

washes this world with colour
flower heads heavy with dew
the fresh scent of moonlight

but the dove-throat peace is fragile
a thread
gossamer drifting

to be caught and broken
by the storm struggling to be born
beneath each treed horizon.

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.

17 thoughts on “The urging of the storm”

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