She could
hear the violent
wind howl
it’s lonely cry before
she opened
the door. She tied her belt
round her coat
as a symbolic gesture of
faith. Then with a defiant
shake of her chin
she gave attitude
to her shoulders
and straightened
her back then stepped
out onto the landing.
Immediately, the wind whipped
her hair round
her head causing
the hairsprayed locks
to javelin her eyes,
and threaten to dissect
her cheeks, almost impaling
her lips and hammering
her words
back at her.
But she knew the gold-
brick wind had no
hold on her;
And tread with slow sure steps
as though nothing were
there and went to pick
apples to feed
her family in the famine
of their minds.
Purple Pennies 