Slipping softly through sun-dappled trees
swaying grasses in time to summer’s hum
casting pollen up like sequinned sparkles
strolling though blossoming fields
ruffling the feather of the nesting birds.
Whipping waves into mountains of spray
stripping the last leaves from autumn’s dying.
Hats are tossed into the air
the rain flies in the face of night.
Forever moving, a restless rover
knowing no settled home.
Tonight there may be howling
and the windows may shake
but by morning there will be little sign
except the detritus of the wild.
Packed up gypsy-like,
the wind trails his life through the world
and is shut out
even in the quiet times.
I saw a spark of lightning in the dark,
its burst of brilliance lit up the whole sky.
The mark of blackness after was so stark
with depth impenetrable to the eye.
The grit and fury split the world in two,
with haunted trees denuded of their leaves.
The houses silhouetted by the view
of such a force that threatens all that breathes.
As quickly as it came it struck no more,
the night remained untainted by its thrust,
and all that stalked the darkness as before
returned to living as they always must.
Glenis has been writing poetry since the first Covid lockdown and does her writing at night as she suffers from insomnia. When she is not writing poetry she makes beaded jewellery, reads, and sometimes runs 10K races slowly. She has been published by Dreich, Dust Poetry, and Wildfire Words.