small stone/tiny joule #17

small stone #17 (also posted in Writing Our Way Home Facebook Group)

the wind growls.

a predator ripping through

old growth as it anchors itself

to the earth.

arms sway with the ebb and flow,

faster, louder, it takes what isn’t secure.

scatters it, shatters it,

until it comes to rest,

somewhere, anywhere,

and becomes something new.

juliet

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