Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Rising Wind

The Rising Wind

Crossing the old lines
to come to the standing stones
raised through the ancient
songs we called upon,
songs woven of river reeds,
packed with earth taken
out from beneath our
tough raw feet splayed for good grip
in the wind rising
as the storm still comes.

Written in this moment for this post.

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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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