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Yasi at her finest by Rachel Harries (17)

White ghosts in uniform

Propel the washing line.

The echo of Yasi’s wrath

Whispers with some divine

Gentleness that only the trees

Can capture.

A tinkling wind chime

Long forgotten in branches

Of a young child’s plaything.

The slow breathing crunches

Almost autumn leaves,

Softening the blow

Of summer in the West.

So sing yourself a song

To the cooled night’s beat,

Take Yasi by the hand

And she’ll direct your feet

In a dance of the elements,

Of complexity, of power.

Listen to her exhale

Follow her, watch her soar

See her light up your sky

Think of all she’s done before.

A neighbour’s life flung

Through the night.

We hear only echoes of Yasi’s might.