Friday, April 4, 2014

Wind


Wind

the calendar says it’s early spring
but the wind pretends not to know

it reaches with bone-cold fingers
inside my coat to rattle my ribs

it swoops down into my mouth
stuns my tongue, steals my voice,

it whispers secrets past my ear
a blur of words too fast too low


from Ordinary Things: Poems From a Walk in Early Spring

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