Karin Andersen

A storm, from the verandah at Fairview.

Lightning, accusing, says “You will remember me.”
(Don’t stand under the electric blue of lightning.)
The sky tastes of lost love and warm honey
Flying ants drop their wings at my feet.

Thunder curses under a blanket of rain.
The earth sighs in dreams
as the storm hunches its back
entering the green gate, pregnant with rain.

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