Karen Preston

The rumble goes through her softly,
in her sleepy head she thinks rain.
A quiet rumble again,
peering out the window slat just a little bit
Eyes wide now but no eyes could take in all that gigantic softness
Her breath catches and they pass huge and gentle.
One looks her way she ducks when she looks again
they have gone.

~ From Karen Preston’s Traveling print description

See more poignant poems and illustrations in her shop.


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