Lyrical branches screen the rising sun
Move lightly in the afternoon breeze
Draw my vision to the heights
After the storm I look out my kitchen window
I want to see the blue sky
And see instead a breach
Your powerful trunk torn and shattered
Woody flesh naked and exposed
Grey skies make it hard to look up
So instead I look in
Deep within the lemon balm growing on the sill
The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2019 continues. One hundred days of writing unedited ideas and following a prompt to its sometimes illogical conclusion.
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