Title: Spring gales
by Jess from Essex | in writing, non-fiction
Green spikes side-step out of the cooing gales, branches clap at the excitement while leaves flutter nervously at the disturbance. The door doesn't know whether it's coming or going, entering or exiting, and as a result faints in a fluster and squeezes blood from the stones beneath it. The very clouds are shuffled along, despite their stubbornness! That one feather has travelled the county by now, witnessing its highs and lows; she crashes to the halt and gracefully descends above foreign ground.
Sitting in the kitchen on a spring morning and it struck me that the force of this gale was destructive and changed the whole landscape
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