A Summer Storm
Feels like winter is in the air,
as wind howls hard off the sea.
Gales piping through in trees,
and sheep have turned, facing
north. See the grass, it’s level,
flat, and not a soul walks on
the beach. Not a foot to fall,
no kites to reach the sky.
No way can this be July.
PB 3 July The Beach ©️ Misky 2020