wind’s tale

Days like dirt on floors

Swept out of back doors

Piled into stacks at the end of hallways

Loaded into dust pans and dumped in bins

 

Memories like windshields forever

Drops getting wiped off

Whipped aside

Shielding us from the fierce wind

 

Wind is like the forgotten night

Night so long no one can

Remember when it began

 

One or two courageous ones

Predict when the day

Will rise again

But even the bold can’t

Claim certainty

For a night longer than a kites tail

Can only be heard in

whispering winds

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About m.a. wood

writer, thinker, musician, teacher
This entry was posted in poem. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to wind’s tale

  1. m.a. wood says:

    glad that this one blew by you

    Like

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