Poetry Pick

Between the hours

by Bernadette Higgins
Maryland, USA

The season’s daily thunderstorm darkens
between the hours of two and three,
pounding its fist against the window panes,
rattling out across the black horse Potomac

into the next state en route south. Much
like a child’s lost coffee cup afloat on a flash
flood stream bubbling as alien cappuccino.
At its cold fishtail end a borderline rainbow

is forged, as a gesture of something or other
half heard, semi-forgotten. Before the big blue
and the hopeful jays return. Before the calm
as flat as toppled trees and next door’s music.


 
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