Katharina Bezushko


I love a bold and anxious thunderstorm;

Below his swelling clouds, this willow tree

Aroused, intrigued, inspired by his form —

He rumbles, low, invigorating me.

Bright dagger flashes, open up my core!

I stretch against the sky, and bid him, strike —

Oblivious to me who loves him more;

But he shocks pine and sycamore alike.

I cannot hold his torrents rushing through —

My boughs are whips that shudder in his gust;

Yet I do not expect the weather to

Reciprocate my yearning or my lust.

            When caprice brings the sun to roast my soul,

            His absence leaves me limp, but I am whole.




As a single parent, Katharina Bezushko spent several years pouring her love of language into the ears of her children, and now she is endeavoring to share her words with a new audience.