Black Dog Cyclone

by May 6, 2023 0 comments

Wind in my head
Throwing branches
Battering my eyes
Erratically roaring

Storm in my head
Turning everything
Grey
Black Dog’s calling

Cyclone in my head
Vision’s blurring
Noises, vivid,
Bouncing black arrows
Everything’s swirling…

Tree’s still standing, tall
Leaves rustled
Trunk robust.
Intact. Solid. Distinct.

Black Dog will. Not. Win.

editors note:

Storm warning! You’d best hunker down if you want to stand fast. (We welcome Julia to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

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