Ten minutes of hail. Ten minutes of innocent discontent; wild eyed wonder of the great outside; which pours in blues and greens, hailstone pebbles and grey before spinning the clouds into gold. Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019 Between the Trees UK Between the Trees US Available internationally
The trees breathe songs of ocean waves whenever the wind rises and silences the magpies, whistling a crescendo of salt upon shore between the branches and leaves; mixing bitterness and sunshine into a heady gale which reveals the very power of Nature’s voice as it moves up the scale, practising arpeggios and ceasing in falsetto, … Continue reading The wind rises and silences
He sits upon the fence and watches, proud chest puffed in morning ceremony. He watches the breeze flit between the leaves and fallen debris, skittering across the blades of grass speckled with midnight dew. He watches me and you, the cat too. A robin red breast Poppins would say has very little time to … Continue reading In Morning
I've never seen a dead body before which I'm not disappointed about, like most people, I prefer bodies which are alive and well but I've seen death; tasted it on the tip of my tongue. I watched the branches of a tree be severed with a saw and tossed into a metal bin with kindling. … Continue reading Oxygen & Dust
I go to the woods to feel safe; when I know, alone, walking deeper until I'm lost, I am little Red to the Wolf. Still, my heart rests. It doesn't switch between fight or flight like it does in the moment I approach a bus stop full of people and cross to the other street. … Continue reading The Sound Sunlight Makes
Golden sunlight shivered in the pale rose sky then shattered with gusts of wind, squishy cheeked blows scattering light and silver trim left dangling from forlorn clouds into a whirlpool of blue blushing pink. Frost stretched lazily past my toes, sinking into dew jewels and blades of Winter's heartache the seat, shrouded in shadow trees … Continue reading 9am
Home again from sea, sand, hills, and inclemency left a memory.
You saw that which man had fought to conquer; for glory and gold stars, and sought to capture it for a moment, nature and man as one.
Forlorn footsteps upon scattered leaves, Encased in heavy russets and grays Suffocating. Bark barriers bar the way To silence. Nothing but wind whistling, Yet a thousand anxious angry voices Shouting. On the edge, gilded corn flexes it's brittle fingers, Coaxing outer trees into the setting sun, Into the field basking in yellow splendor. Blinding, overwhelming, … Continue reading Between the Trees
