Soufflé The wind whipped into 3pmclouds cheek-puffed & greybut I – I was writing beforethe light moved to meet the dayby noon the words flowedbetween mouths into laughterwe even read poetry out loudPope & Lowell – pausing in theeleventh hour to hand-over-heartsilence as three yellow spitfiressputtered overhead –remembering lives in all the colours By 1pm… Continue reading Poem 315 – Souffle