Tuesday, October 9, 2018

COOL POEM

Feeling both 
divided and fully- 
realized by the Autumn wind

gusting neither 
warmly
nor cold across my rough-haired limbs—

I first become small 
and afraid 
and thin as the under-fed 

mouse on the garden path—and then,
bold as the high speck of red-
shouldered hawk slowly whirling 

and finally—unruffled
as that nameless twinge of tender 
firmness in the same wind 

that allows the latent purposes 
of both of those things 
to be right.

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