Remember when it rained so much
it felt as though the sky
had spent itself with weeping;
flung itself, exhausted,
in sodden heaps across the fields?
It felt as if the very possibility of morning
hung balanced between our outward
and our inward breaths.
The weather asked a question we could not
answer and the day became fog, the air
tasting like ash in our mouths.
Beth Brooke is a retired teacher and she lives in Dorset. Her debut collection is out next year, courtesy of Hedgehog Poetry Press. She can be found on Twitter as @BethBrooke8.