Her Storms She makes notes of thunder Making little observations in pencil In her scruffy old jotter Along with diagrams of lightning strikes Carefully recording sounds and brightness When raindrops wriggle down her window She names each one individually Cheering them on as they race and play She knows she should be tucked up in bed by now But she can't tear herself away From the full blown mix of ballet and opera Decorating her sky
Respect!
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