Spirit Passing Through This World
I have come this way
again as if I would stay
this time - not like last
when I was the wind
passing and pushing brown leaves
hard against siding,
deep into sidewalk
cracks and swirling beneath trees,
covering caches
that squirrels forgot.
By next winter I will spread
as if made of ice.
Indeed my heart is
sculpted from the Greenland bergs
that crave hulls of ships.
November 8, 2013 11:09 PM
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.