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


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


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