Posted in poetry

Smoke Signals

When trees send smoke signals

There’s no need to fret

For all it means

Is that the sun is soon to set.

On it brings the darkness

And out we see the light

A cold winters evening

The signals reappear tomorrow, with all their might.



"I loved writing as a child, loved making up silly stories. They came built-in to my brain, almost like an Ikea instruction manual. The focus these days is to figure out how to now turn them into books" Tanya Butler, June 2018

3 thoughts on “Smoke Signals

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s