Thursday, January 31, 2013

Wind Slug

The wind slugs
my face, tips me to one side,
tilts my hair into horizontal
flaps. The sky, so bright and blue,
makes my eyes sting and squint--sunglasses
on a table, I forgot them. Champion of air,
someone on earth is just making
the best of things. Old newspapers
rip down Henry Street
like tumbleweeds in a western movie
to the soundtrack of bluster
and bellow. I am bound to this
morning as a man tied to a mast
on a ship bobbing on the Atlantic.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Very good "52"

9:03 PM  
Blogger LongSocks said...

Slugs in the garden...a friend mentioned years ago that they could be tempted by a wee bit of beer...sudsy 'slumbers'...sleep and sweet dreams

12:53 AM  

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