Monday, July 27, 2015

in praise of pneumatics

I like the wind:
invisible power
bending trees,
brushing aside leaves,
exciting the sea
with white topping.
It combs my hair,
with imaginary fingers,
not asking permission
for its barbery.
Flowers genuflect
at its feet
and gulls stall
white sailed
in their highway journeying.
puppeteered by gusts.

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