Quiet warnings

What if butterflies are quiet warnings for all to come: the bite marks and scratches, as the red flags gnaw your skin from the inside out never sinking their teeth in deep enough for you to listen.     Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020 Between the Trees UK Between the Trees US Signed copies on Etsy

Like magma

We did not wish each other a happy valentines day because the words are empty mountains lying dormant and deathly still. Whilst our love is volcanic, Vesuvius destructive leaving plaster casts of the lives we led before that kiss in the car park when Eros loosened his arrows and valentines paled into insignificance as we … Continue reading Like magma

Brother

I hope you realise you are the salt of my earth. The roots which reach ever deeper. I hope you realise one day how much more you are than you have believed before. You are waxwings in the trees arriving on winter’s doorstep in stoic defiance. You are warmth in the bitter cold. I hope … Continue reading Brother

Age 25

Last year began as the previous one ended - quite literally and in the sense I still had vast mountain ranges to climb. It’s a metaphor we use constantly but I couldn’t think of anything more apt; anything more deceptive than a mountain peak disappearing into the clouds. A few months into the year, I … Continue reading Age 25

Mother

Mother, a green woodpecker floated to the ground today with grace and poise before plucking the soil with its ebony beak, and I thought you would like to know how much simpler life has become, how quiet the weekends are that I notice a bird I’ve never seen before, and watch it for longer than … Continue reading Mother