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Libby Hart -I

Storm in an Epiphany 



I understand there are people

who conjure storm in teacups,

but I much prefer the real thing.


I gravitate towards true drama,

an inclination of suspense.


And what came

had been limbering up for days.

It was a festering of sky


gathered by an army of strength

in cloud and a carriage of wind.


It shook all of the mountains

then a rough captain

scorched superstition over landscape –


writing only of the darkest things.

His foot soldiers grumbled every rumour.


It was then I realised

sometimes I pray for rain

and get thunder.


Sometimes I get things so wrong.