Thursday, November 20, 2008

Awoke this morning craving wind, the cedars outside
my bedroom window barely rustling. And now a gloom
has settled upon the landscape, as if we're retreating
backwards into night -- an unwillingness to progress
into day. Now the cedars toss and swish their emerald
skirts in a furied twist, and rain deliberately lashes.
Can true cold be far behind? Once again I can breathe.

No comments:

Post a Comment