Poems by Anne Knight
Storm.
Storm coming
Wind whistling
Icy winds With coldness
Balls of glass rain Stinging
Clouds black
Lightning static
Angry, fast and moving
Soaking people quivering
People huddled together
Shuddering, waiting
Moaning trees struck down
Clouds change to grey
People dripping wet
Hair lank, wispful
Waiting for the bus
by Anne Knight