Image of Kate Angus

Kate Angus

115 readings


There was a wilder
tinge to the air—purple-

scented, fennel fronds shaking green as parties
as when a child I used to draw
mermaid and merman’s hair.
A storm blowing
through, wind in the tunnel of the throat
and rushing
from the mouth. A story caw-cawing from the branches.

The pines wave back and forth, thrash
the sky. Soft spruce needle whisks, egg-froth of clouds.

To be of the storm, to enter it.
To be entirely air.


Image of Rendez-vous, July 2019 issue

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Image of Luisa
Luisa · ago
Beautiful atmosphere
Image of Die Booth
Die Booth · ago
Beautiful atmosphere.
Image of Gail
Gail · ago
Reminds me of when I was a child and when the wind blew strong I climbed to the top of our pine tree and rode the tip as it thrashed the earth, rode it like a carnival ride. Whoopee!
Image of Keith Simmonds
Keith Simmonds · ago
I love the original structure of this piece written with lots of emotion and nostalgia!
Image of Tamsen McKerley
Tamsen McKerley · ago
I love "to be of the storm" - to me, it gives the impression of being the storm's offspring, a descendant of mother earth

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