When Words Sail Me

or the reason I read poetry

Last week the wind down here in the far west of Cornwall was nasty. Everyone commented on it. Even my husband who often rolls his eyes at my “woo-woo stuff” agreed when I said it felt malevolent. I had just come in from a battle with the laundry which became so inflated by the wind as I pegged it on the line that it came alive, the sleeves of the shirts…