Poetry: Night

| By Jennie Boyd Bell |

Owl hoots in the forest.
Wind roars through the trees,
surges over the mountains,
            recedes to a whisper,
      surges again.

I lie cocooned in my tent;
      the wind breathes me.


Jennie Boyd Bull recently retired to the mountains of Western North Carolina, following careers as a editor, writer, librarian, bookstore manager, and archivist with nonprofits in Maryland and New York State. Born in Knoxville, TN, she is grateful to return home to the Appalachians, where she enjoys teaching Tai Chi, hiking, gardening, weaving and writing, and volunteers with the Carolina Mountains Literary Festival.

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